


Strider Senses

by viksherenqueer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Angst, Background Relationships, Child Abuse, Humanstuck, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sexuality Crisis, also probably meowrails and possibly others idk they wont be super relevant to this story anyway, background relationships probably involve gamtav and scourge sisters and arasol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-07 03:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6782695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viksherenqueer/pseuds/viksherenqueer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Your name is Dave Strider, and if you were being entirely honest with yourself, you couldn’t wait to get out of this fucking place.</i><br/> </p><p>A humanstuck au where Dave is trying to juggle himself between a new school, new friends, and his subpar home life. Will include: a lot of realizations about abuse and manipulation within the Strider household, an existential crisis or maybe several, and a lot of questioning of sexuality and internalized homophobia. Basically Dave Strider has a lot of shit to deal with, and the short red headed guy who yells too much is not really helping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> honestly I just wanted to write a fic about dave dealing with his abuse. might as well throw some davekat in there  
> so yeah this is gonna be a weird mix of funny and depressing tbh?  
> also im sorry if there are typos its literally 4am here rn  
> ill update this as my mental health allows p much
> 
> warnings: this chapter contains a minor fist fight, a sword fight, some blood, and a really creepy whispering puppet.

Your name is Dave Strider, and if you were being entirely honest with yourself, you couldn’t wait to get out of this fucking place.

Your current state of being, laying on your back on the ground in front of the school with the contents of your bag spilt out next to you and your arm over your face, could be explained by the earlier events. Elaboration was needed.

It was the first day of senior year, and like every other year of your life, people were dicks. It happened. Except this was a different school from last year. You and Bro hadn’t moved from Houston, but after an incident that involved Bro bringing a sword to the only Parent-Teacher conference he had ever attended in the history of your education, you weren’t exactly allowed to come back to your old school. Plus when the teacher asked if you had another guardian, Bro pulled out Lil Cal.

This new school was closer to your apartment anyway, and it made more sense for you to go there. Just had one more year to finish out and then you could attend some college far away and get a taste for life away from Houston. Not to say that Houston had done you wrong, but you and Houston had some differences. You said potato, she said po-tah-to. No hard feelings, Houston.

Leaving Houston obviously wouldn’t fix all of your problems, but damn would it be a fresh start. You thought this school year was going to be a new start as well, but it started out about as shitty as it always did. You somehow managing to piss someone off. You were relatively sure you just had a really punchable face.

Basically how things went down: you went to class. This class was Enviromental Science, and you liked science quite a bit. Anyway, you sat next to some girl. Harmless, right? Dark hair, pink lip gloss, Aeropostale tee. Just a normal, typical girl. You borrowed a pencil from her. You probably smiled at her. It was innocent.

Except her boyfriend didn’t seem to think so. He was some blockhead swim team member with a name like Chad. It probably wasn’t actually Chad, but you’re going to call him Chad. See, Chad already had decided to sit in the back of that class with his friend instead of next to his girlfriend. Totally fine. Why not. He obviously isn’t required to sit next to his girlfriend.

This being said, he certainly wasn’t happy you had taken a spot next to her. Truthfully you just didn’t want to sit with a guy and she was the only girl sitting alone. When you sat next to guys, they often picked fights. Plus the gay rumors at your old school had left a bitter taste in your mouth and you’d like to avoid that if at all possible. 

Anyway, on your way out of the school building you were confronted by ‘Chad’. Chad was pissed, accused you of having a thing for his girlfriend. It was all very stupid, and you wouldn’t have thought much of it. Except when you turned to walk away, Chad had the gall to punch you in the side of the head. 

For a swimmer, the kid had a hook on him. He also punched you in the ear, and managed to knock you off balance. You were on the ground, cupping your ringing ear in shock as the guy yanked your backpack off of your arm and dumped the contents all over the ground. Chad tossed the bag onto the ground, standing over you and speaking in a firm voice.

“Look you fucking weirdo, just stay away from Sierra.” He waved a hand at you before stomping away. Your ear hurt, and your world was spinning a bit. You were also aware that literally everyone in the vicinity must be staring directly at you, and you drape an arm over your face and wondered if maybe you could just will yourself into inexistence. 

You hear the footsteps approaching you, but say nothing. They’re thumping, and you hear someone touching the scattered papers from where your bag was dumped. “Get up.” The voice orders, and you sigh loudly.

“Nah man. This ground is pretty damn cozy. Really feeling it.” You reply, not moving from your spot until he grabs your arm. You pull back, making a face and examining him closely. He’s not a big guy in any sense, unless you counted those giant eyebrows. His face was grumpy, and he had a mess of orange in a disarray on his head. He grabs your arm, and stands and tries to yank you up. He’s scrawny, but he actually manages to lift you a bit and you give in and let the guy help you to your feet. He shoves your bag into your arms, with all of your things in it. 

“You do not just lay on the ground while everyone fucking stares at you, dipshit.” He starts, looking incredulous. “You are so lucky I felt so sorry for your pitiful ass getting decked in front of the entire school that I was here to pick you up. I’m sure that hit killed some brain cells. You are exceptionally fucking brainless and there very well may be some internal bleeding that will cause your intelligence to leak out of your ears on your way home, but that’s not my fucking problem. I am saving you from social suicide, dude. Plain and fucking simple. So stop being a shit-eating moron and get out of here or you’ll be known as the guy who laid on the ground until somebody called 911.”

You purse your lips, staring at the smaller guy and finally shrugging. “Yeah, alright, whatever.” You finally drape your bag over your shoulder and nod. The guy starts to leave, so you follow him. He takes a moment to realize this, before turning and looking at you. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Oh, are you the new guy? A lost little puppy who can’t stop pissing all over the carpet and I’m the only one in the household who it likes and I can’t stand it? I want to throw that stupid dog in the rain for ruining my fucking carpet, but it cries until I feel like an awful human being and let it follow me around and urinate excessively on everything I know and love.”

“Dude, you just spent a solid minute talking about an analogy which involves me pissing on your belongings. I walk this way. You know. To my building. Where I live. It involves me crossing the school parking lot. Which anyone can go on. Amazing.”

The guy stared at you for a long, quiet moment before groaning and rubbing his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Who are you anyway?”

You arch a brow, shoving your hands into your jean pockets and shrugging. “Name’s Strider. Dave Strider. Just transferred here to Lamar from Willowridge.”

The man paused, arching a brow. “That’s not much of a move.”

“Nah I didn’t move. Just. Some shit happened with my old school is all.” You finally shrug again, sighing. “So what’s your name?”

“Karter Vantas,” the smaller male looked a little wary, brows knitting together. “Also what the fuck happened at your old school? Did you like beat the shit out of somebody? Get expelled?”

“I didn’t do shit, dude. And besides, it’s none of your fucking business.” You made a face, deciding against actually explaining what happened. In elementary and middle school it had been cool to tell people about your Bro and his swords. Now you didn’t really want anyone to find out. Especially because teachers had called the police before. Same with neighbors. Bro was willing to toss around money to make a lot of problems disappear, including how other people interpreted your home life and the legal ramifications of sword fighting the minor in your care on the rooftop of a tall apartment building. Also the lack of food in the house, swords in the fridge, and fireworks in the sink. Bro had pictures of when you were a baby and he emptied out the oven and stuck a bunch of blankets in a laundry basket and stuck it in the oven as your crib. Oh, also the sex puppets. And cameras. All over the apartment. Bro filmed every second of the apartment life in real time for one of his sites. You didn’t really get why, but you never ask and just cover the bathroom camera anytime you went in there. It wasn’t really a friendly environment to grow up in, but you certainly weren’t going to tell anyone about it. 

You have a lot of respect for your Bro though, who was basically a self made millionaire and raised you from a very young age and still managed to be successful. He was strong and talented and so cool that you understand why your life isn’t like everyone else’s. Bro knew life wasn’t easy, and he didn’t want you to grow up thinking you could breeze through it. You were going to have to work for things, and you were prepared to do it. Though you weren’t quite sure you were necessarily going to use a sword to do so.

“Whatever,” Karter replies, huffing a bit and rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. It was August, why the hell was the guy wearing a sweater? “Are you just going to stare at me all day?” He asks, moving to sit down on the cement edge that separated pavement from grass, setting his backpack down and digging through his bag. “Go home.”

“What are you doing?” You inquire, because you don’t listen to anyone ever. You didn’t really feel like going home, anyway. Bro would probably want to strife and you were tired. 

“Not that it’s any of your fucking beeswax, new guy, but I’m waiting for my brother to come pick me up. I don’t exactly live within pissing distance of the school here, and he is at UH about fifteen minutes down the road. Doesn’t make much sense to ride the school bus when he can just come get me after class. Besides, the bus smells like sweat and everyone is too fucking loud.”

“Dude,” you pause, tilting your head a bit. “You have been yelling since the second I met you. You probably would make up a good eighty-five percent of the noise in said bus.”

Karter shoots you a venomous glare, and it’s a little jarring but you don’t let on. “Look you sorry fucker, I’m sorry if my taking pity on you put you under the whole impression that I wanted to spend time with you, but that’s not the case. I want to sit down and work on my homework until my stupid snob of a brother gets here, and then I want to go home and watch movies and pretend none of this shit ever happened because we both know I’m going to go through my own shit tomorrow when I’m stuck here at school all over again. Go be a sad sack somewhere else.” 

You were used to people being mean, but man this guy was so biting it’d be funny if you weren’t actually a little mad. “Fine, whatever.” You say, shrugging and walking away from the guy. You manage a glance back, and he almost looks like he feels bad. Too bad. 

To walk home would take you about an hour and a half, and it was definitely too hot. Maybe when December came around you'd take the time to wander around Houston, but not now. So after about twenty minutes of walking, you stop at a little restaurant and get yourself a Coke and a sub. You plop down in a chair and pull out your phone, noticing Rose was online.

  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] started pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--  
TG: yo  
TT: Hello, Dave.  
TT: You started school today, correct? How did it go?  
TG: eh couldve been better  
TG: everyone wanted to sell me snacks  
TG: apparently thats a thing at lamar just fucking snack selling  
TG: an illegal underground black market for honey buns and big texas cinna rolls  
TG: some dude in a trench coat coming up and opening it up to reveal all the sour patch kids, hot fries, and cheetos you could ever want  
TG: just like hey kid wanna buy some snacks  
TT: I do hope you checked all of these snacks to make sure they were sealed.   
TG: rose do you think the snack dealers are sneaking razor blades into my premium quality delectable sustenance  
TG: because thats fucked up  
TT: I am googling the reviews for your school as we speak.  
TT: They are looking bleak.  
TT: Rasmus The Great says “I got stabbed here, but also bought some good weed.” They have a Neko Atsume icon.  
TT: I see a review about the snack dealers.  
TT: This one says the school has rats.  
TG: i live in a house full of swords rose im not that scared of getting stabbed  
TG: im down for some dank kush tho  
TT: Is ‘dank kush’ the phrase kids are using these days?  
TT: Goodness, I am such an old spirit and unable to keep up with the times.  
TT: Dank kush sounds. Well, fucking stupid, frankly.  
TT: But if the kids enjoy it.  
TG: you sound so white when you talk like that  
TT: I’m offended.  
TG: youre like the whitest suburban mom trying to be cool  
TG: like what do the kids like these days??? dank kush??? hell yeah  
TG: timmy baby after soccer practice lets stop by target and get you some the dank kush  
TG: mom they definitely dont sell that at TARGET  
TG: if you wanna get the good stuff theres this dude in the alley behind whole foods he wear a beanie and has a beard with beads in it  
TG: oh ok timmy i love whole foods we can do that  
TT: Are you Timmy in this analogy?  
TG: probably  
TG: and youre my mother helen  
TG: you drink too much wine when the kids arent looking and always try to beat everyone at the bake sale  
TT: Sounds a lot like my mother. Except she doesn’t drink when I’m not looking. She blatantly drinks in large amounts and leaves wine glasses strewn about.  
TT: Also, she really does try to bake for bake sales. It’s embarrassing.  
TT: She is constantly trying to get me to participate in school programs with her and quite honestly it’s dreadful.  
TT: Even when she is sober I’d rather not be forced to spend any more time with her than absolutely necessary.  


You have to pause and stare at your phone, making a face. It always rubbed you the wrong way when your friends complained about their parents wanting to spend time with them. Bro didn’t really do much with you besides strifing. You guys didn’t even talk that much, really. Most conversations went along the lines of:

“Hey”  
“Yo”  
“Pizza?”  
“Sure”  
“A’ight.”

And that was only when Bro actually remembered you required food. Which wasn’t very often. He had better things to focus on anyway.

  
TG: i cant imagine bro going to a bake sale  
TG: im not sure the man could use the oven without burning the house down tbh  
TG: not that im any better when it comes to cooking but i can turn the oven on and off pretty well  
TT: Lucky you.  
TT: My mother is constantly trying to force mother/daughter outings. It’s exhausting.  
TG: yeah i bet  
TG: sounds awful  
TT: I am sensing some sarcasm.  
TG: nevermind  
TG: its not important  
TG: i gtg  
TG: ttyl  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--  


You crumple up the foil wrapping your sub had came in and tossed it into the trash, and slurped the rest of the cola into your stomach before tossing that cup as well. You were feeling surprisingly bitter after that conversation, and rather wishing Bro would spend more time with you. You get that he’s busy, but when the only interaction you guys have is strifing, it kinda gets tiresome being around him.

The rest of the way home is uneventful, to say the least. You catch the bus and it takes you all the way to Texas Avenue. You walk the rest of the way home, ducking past people on the street and nobody really pays you any mind. Once you get to your building you head straight for the elevator and let it take you up to the top suite. You step out into what could barely be called a hallway, considering there was around five feet between the elevator and the stairway to the roof, and you head for the door that played entrance to your apartment. You pause for a long moment, a tingling in your gut. It was a familiar feeling, and you often compared it to Peter Parker’s spider senses. Strider senses? No, that was dumb. Basically, you expected a strife to come any second. 

When you push open the door, the apartment is silent. You step in, glancing to your right. The kitchen looked normal. To your left, the television was off and the futon was empty. Everything seemed really still, so you quietly drop your bag off to the side and take a step into the apartment. You uncapchalogue your sword, eyes darting around the space. You can hear Lil Cal’s whispers tease in the back of your mind, and you swallow thickly as your heart picks up pace in your chest. You unsheath it quickly, gripping the handle of the blade tightly in your left hand and the sheath in your other. Everything is silent besides the laughter, whispy and breathy in the back of your brain. It sends a shiver down your spine.

He totally fucking blindsides you. He wasn’t even in the goddamn apartment. A foot collides hard with your back, like something straight out of a martial arts flick. Essentially, it hurts like hell and you are shoved forward and down onto the ground. Every part of your being hurts, but sheer adrenaline keeps you going. You scramble forward, picking your sword up off the ground and pushing yourself to your feet. You manage to spin around fast enough to block the swing of Bro’s katana. It clashes loudly against your’s, metal scraping and you wince. It’s an awful noise and you kind of hate it.

Bro’s face is blank and unmoving, and you have no way of knowing when he was going to move. Even after all of these years he was still finding ways to one-up you, and it was immensely frustrating. You had never once landed a legitimate blow on the guy, and you wonder why you were so weak in comparison.

Suddenly he shoves you hard, and you stumble back and manage to slice your hand on the blade of your sword. Not the first time, certainly not the last, but it still hurts. You hiss, shaking your right hand like you’d be able to get the pain to just fall off. Instead blood splatters on the floor and your pants leg. You ignore this, gripping the handle of your sword with two hands. You almost miss the days where Bro stopped at first blood.

Bro is staring at you for a long moment, and then without warning, he was in front of you and you were jumping back and sticking up your sword to block his swing. This works, but it takes everything you have to not let him knock the blade from your hands. 

You try to make the first move this next time, escaping from where he’s trapped you so close to the wall and managing to land on the futon. It’s not really ideal, but you were away from him and it gave you the upper-hand. He flashsteps again, and you jump off the futon and swing your sword at him. The jump gives you a lot of force, but takes away all of your leverage. He manages to knock your sword out of your arms with a single swing, gripping you by the front of your shirt and tossing you back so you slam onto your back, head oh so close to hitting one of the cinder blocks that keeps Bro’s desk standing. You feel like your limbs are made of cement, and you finally accept your fate. You have lost this strife. 

You lay there on the ground, because essentially it’s your defense mechanism. When things went bad, you just laid on the ground for a while. It doesn’t really help, but it’s just a natural reaction to bad things. Bad things in this case being pain and humiliation. Bro handed your ass to you so hard, and between your bloody hand and the gnarly bruise you’d have on your back tomorrow, it felt well deserved. After years of training and you still didn’t stand a chance? He must be so disappointed. He never let on that he was disappointed, though. But he never let on that he was feeling any emotion at all. Emotions weren’t really cool.

“Lil’ man.” Bro finally says, and you hear footsteps approach you. “Does it need stitches?” It’s a simple question, and one you had been asked quite a few times over the years.

You turn your head, finally opening your eyes and looking at your hand. “No.” You reply, glancing at him. He simply nods and moves to sit in the desk chair next to your head and look at his computer screen. He’s done, so you peel yourself up off the ground and find your sword and sheath. Once those are away you stumble into the small hallway and into the even smaller bathroom. Your back hurts so bad, but there wasn’t much to do with that. You settle for running your hand under some water and hissing a bit at the pain. You bundle up a towel and squeeze it in your hand and wait for the wound to stop bleeding. Then you retrieve the bottle of alcohol kept in the medicine cabinet and dump a bit on your hand to disinfect it. You hiss at the pain, and then a swig of the vodka to spite underage drinking laws before returning it to the cabinet. Finally you wrap your hand up and cut across the hall into your bedroom. Once the door is closed, you collapse onto your bed in silence.

You should change out of your clothes, or maybe get online, or something. But man, you know your back is going to be bruised to hell in the morning. You settle for laying in the complete and utter silence that was your bedroom. Your fan wasn’t even on, despite it being hot, and thus the noise couldn’t really bother you.

It was subtle, and you almost didn’t notice it at first. The one thing that was going to force you to get up and at least put some headphones on. Lil Cal was whispering again.

His words were typically indiscernible except for the occasional moment of coherency. It was stupid. Probably crazy, if you were being entirely honest with yourself. But you swore for a moment you heard the word 'disappointment'.

You guess it’s appropriate this ended the way your day started, anyway. Laying down, in pain, and feeling sorry for yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> those google reviews for lamar high school in houston are real by the way I did my research. they try to sell you snacks. its a thing


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who loves pesterlogs too much? its me. I love them. so much. also this chapter is from karkat's pov. cool

  
\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] started pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--  
GC: K4RKL3S  
CG: THAT NICKNAME WAS CUTE WHEN WE WERE IN MIDDLE SCHOOL, PYROPE.  
CG: I’VE GOT TO SAY, IT’S LOST IT’S FUCKING CHARM.  
CG: NOT THAT IT HAD MUCH TO EVEN BEGIN WITH, BUT STILL.  
GC: SHUT TH3 FUCK UP  
GC: 1 4M TRY1NG TO 4SK HOW YOUR F1RST D4Y OF SCHOOL W3NT!  
GC: W3 H4V3 NO CL4SS3S TOG3TH3R >:[  
CG: I KNOW. WHAT A SHAME.  
CG: THAT IS SARCASM.   
CG: EVERY TIME WE HAVE A CLASS TOGETHER YOU SPEND THE WHOLE TIME POKING ME AND PASSING ME SHITTY DRAWINGS.  
GC: 1 KNOW R1GHT! SO MUCH FUN  
GC: M4YB3 N3XT S3M3EST3R W3’LL H4V3 CL4SS3S TOG3TH3R  
GC: WH4T LUNCH DO YOU H4V3  
CG: FUCKING D. IT’S A MISERABLE EXCUSE OF A LUNCH. I’LL BE STARVING BY THE TIME I GET THERE AND ALL OF THE FOOD WILL BE FUCKING GONE. THE WHOLE GROUP OF STUDENTS WILL RAVENOUSLY FIGHT EACH OTHER OVER WHAT IS LEFT OF THE PIZZA AND SOFT PRETZELS.  
GC: H3H3H3H3H3  
GC: W3 SHOULD ST4RT 4 M3MO  
CG: WHY THE FUCK WOULD WE DO THAT.  
CG: MY MEMOS ARE FOR IMPORTANT SHIT.  
GC: W3 COULD F1ND OUT 3V3RYON3S LUNCH!  
CG: NOT GONNA FUCKING HAPPEN.  
GC: 1LL DO 1T MYS3LF TH3N!  
  


You pause, staring at your screen for a long moment and groan. You hadn’t even bothered looking for anyone at lunch today. Just ate the cold pizza at the end of a random table where the other people sitting there ignored you and stuffed your nose in a book. 

Suddenly another window popped up and you open it.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

GC 0:00 HOURS AGO opened memo on board F1RST D4Y OF SCHOOL.  
GC: H3Y!!!  
GC: 1 H4V3 B LUNCH 4ND K4RT3R H4S D  
GC: WH4T 4BOUT YOU GUYS  
[TA] 0:00 HOURS AGO responded to memo.  
TA: ii also have b.  
TA: 2o doe2 arcadiia.  
[AT] 0:00 HOURS AGO responded to memo.  
AT: i HAVE D, aS DOES GAVIN,  
AT: i DIDN’T SEE YOU TODAY, tHOUGH  
AT: gAVIN WANTED TO SIT BY THE WINDOW SO WE COULD WATCH THE BIRDS OUTSIDE,  
AT: iT WAS, nICE  
[AC] 0:00 HOURS AGO responded to memo.  
AC: :33 < *ac wiggles her bottom high up in the air as she prepurrs herself fur the attack!*  
AC: :33 < *once ac is ready, she purrounces onto at with a mighty leap!*  
AT: oH MY *aT SAYS, uH, nERVOUSLY, tRYING TO LAUGH OFF THE STARTLED FEELING THAT, aC HAD LEFT HIM WITH*   
[CG] 0:00 HOURS AGO responded to memo.  
CG: CUT THAT SHIT OUT.  
CG: I SWEAR, THAT STUPID ROLEPLAYING GARBAGE GETS ON MY EVERY LAST NERVE.  
[CA] 0:00 HOURS AGO responded to memo.  
CA: i agree  
CA: its fuckin annoying  
CG: NOBODY ASKED YOU ERIN.  
CA: fuck off kar  
AC: :33 < *staring at the two arguing boys, urging them to kiss!*  
CG: FUCK NO.  
CA: im leavvin  
TA: good.  
TA: nobody even want2 you here ed.  
CA: i changed my mind  
CA: im stayin just to spite you  
CG: TERRI, THIS IS WHY MEMOS ARE FOR IMPORTANT SHIT *ONLY*.   
CG: NOT FOR NATALIE TO SHIP US OR FOR SALEM AND ERIN TO ARGUE.  
GC: OH COM3 ON  
GC: TH1S 1S PR1C3L3SS  
GC: >:] > :] >:]  
CG: STOP WIGGLING YOUR FUCKING EYEBROWS AT ME.  
GC: > :] >:] > :]  
GC: MY 3Y3BROWS 4R3 W1GGL1NG OFF MY F4C3 JUST FOR YOU K4RT3R  
[GA] 0:00 HOURS AGO responded to memo.  
GA: Well I Am Simply Here To Say That I Have C Lunch  
GA: Erin I Believe I Saw You Today  
CA: yeah i saww you and then couldnt fuckin find you afterwwards?  
GA: Oh Goodness  
GA: I Certainly Was Not Hiding From You If That Is What You Are Thinking  
CA: i wwasnt evven thinkin that until you said it  
GA: Oh  
GA: Well  
[GA] 0:00 HOURS AGO left the memo.  
TA: lmao.  
AC: :33 < *settling down in at’s lap, purring, she says* i have a lunch along with quinn!  
TA: gc doe2n’t viiktoriia have lunch wiith u2?  
GC: Y34H!  
GC: SH3 W4S JUST BUSY IN TH3 SCH3DUL1NG OFF1C3 TOD4Y  
GC: SP34K1NG OF H3R, SH3S H3R3  
GC: SO 1 H4V3 TO GO  
GC: BY3 GUYS!  
AC: :33 < *ac cheers!* kiss kiss kiss!  
GC: OH TRUST M3, W3 W1LL >;]  
[GC] 0:00 HOURS AGO left the memo.  
TA: 2o kt.  
TA: ii heard 2omethiing along the grapeviine  
TA: and by grapeviine ii mean arcadiia liike2 two talk about fiight2 that happen at 2chool.  
TA: heard 2ome douchebag got knocked ontwo the ground and you apparently helped hiim.  
CA: wwoww kar model citizen right there  
AC: :33 < *ac frowns* why did they beat the purr guy up??  
CG: PROBABLY BECAUSE HE’S A WEIRDO.  
CG: THOUGH I COULD SAY THAT ABOUT LITERALLY EVERYONE IN THIS GODDAMN MEMO.  
CA: kar seriously i am the most normal person here  
CG: HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.  
CG: MY BOWELS JUST EXPELLED AN ABSURD AMOUNT OF DIARRHEA IN EXCITEMENT OVER THAT HILARIOUS FUCKING JOKE.  
TA: omfg.  
CG: ANYWAY.  
CG: I DIDN’T REALLY CATCH THE STORY.  
CG: ALL I KNOW IS THE DOUCHE JUST?? LAID ON THE FUCKING GROUND FOR A SOLID THREE MINUTES WHILE PEOPLE JUST STARED AT HIM.  
CG: HE OBVIOUSLY WASN’T DEAD SO I FINALLY TOOK PITY ON HIM.  
CG: MOSTLY BECAUSE IF I DIDN’T SOMEONE PROBABLY WOULD’VE CALLED AN AMBULANCE.  
CG: ALSO PEOPLE TOOK PICTURES.  
AT: wOW, PEOPLE ARE, dICKS  
CG: WOW! THAT’S THE FIRST THING YOU’VE EVER SAID THAT I’VE AGREED WITH. CONGRATULATIONS TRAVIS, YOU AREN’T ENTIRELY FUCKING OBSOLETE.  
CG: BUT YEAH, THE GUY’S NAME IS DAVE. HE JUST TRANSFERRED HERE FOR SOME SHADY FUCKING REASON.  
CG: LIKE I ASKED WHY AND HE STRAIGHT UP TOLD ME IT WAS NONE OF MY BUSINESS.  
CG: SO HE PROBABLY LIKE BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF SOMEONE.  
TA: aa 2aiid he wa2n’t really a biig guy.  
CG: HE’S NOT. I MEAN, HE’S TALL? LIKE PROBABLY SIX FOOT, BUT HE’S A BEANPOLE.  
CG: I COULD TAKE HIM DOWN WITH THE SHEER WILLPOWER BROUGHT ON FROM MY UNRELENTING RAGE.  
TA: kr, you’re liike. 5’3.  
CG: I CAN JUMP ON HIM GOD DAMMIT.  
CG: YOU HAVE SEEN ME KNOCK GAVIN ON HIS ASS A COUPLE OF TIMES.  
AT: yOU JUST SORTA, sCALE HIM LIKE A TREE,  
AC: :33 < omgggg i do the same to quinn *ac begins daydreaming about climbing onto her best furriends shoulders*  
AT: hEH, i THINK IT WOULD BE FUN TO, uM, cLIMB ON GAVIN,  
AT: bUT I’M NOT REALLY PHYSICALLY CAPABLE OF DOING SO, sO I GUESS IT’S A MOOT POINT,  
AT: sTILL FUN TO THINK ABOUT, tHOUGH,  
TA: ok but ii don’t care about gv.  
TA: ii wanna know iif the kiid bled.  
CG: I DON’T THINK SO? I DIDN’T SEE ANY BLOOD. JUST A WHINY PISS BABY PUPPY WHO FOLLOWED ME TO THE PARKING LOT AFTER I HELPED HIS SORRY ASS UP.  
CG: I PROMPTLY TOLD THE KID TO FUCK OFF IN THE MOST DICKISH WAY POSSIBLE.  
CG: IT WAS VERY ME AND YOU’D HATE MY GUTS FOR IT.  
TA: ii don’t doubt that one biit.  
AT: nEITHER DO I,  
CA: i dont think id hate you kar  
CG: ERIN OFFICIALLY GETS BROWNIE POINTS. THE REST OF YOU SUCK.  
CA: howw does this browwnie point system wwork  
CA: are there prizes  
CG: NO.  
CA: wwhy the fuck not  
CG: BECAUSE FUCK YOU. THAT’S WHY.  
CG: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A MEMO ABOUT SCHOOL SHIT, GUYS.  
CG: LUNCHES! CLASSES! CLUBS!  
TA: obviiou2ly ii’m goiing two the computer 2ciience2 club liike ii do every year.  
CA: kar you should join the gsa  
AC: :33 < yeah! oh karter it’ll be so much fun this year! we’re gonna make a rainbow homecoming furrloat!  
CG: FURRLOAT. REALLY.  
AC: :(( < ok not by best pun, i will admit.  
CG: I GUESS.  
AT: i WAS THINKING ABOUT JOINING THAT, tOO  
AT: wHAT DAY ARE MEETINGS,  
AT: i HAVE MYTHOLOGY CLUB ON MONDAYS,  
AC: :33 < gsa meets on purrsdays!  
AT: pURRSDAY,  
AC: :33 < thursday, sorry!  
AT: oKAY,  
AT: mAYBE I’LL ASK GAVIN TO JOIN AS WELL,,,  
AT: i MEAN, cONSIDERING HE IS MY BOYFRIEND, iT WOULD MAKE SENSE FOR HIM TO, eRM, jOIN THE GAY-STRAIGHT ALLIANCE, wITH ME, hIS BOYFRIEND,  
CG: SO DO I JUST SHOW UP?  
CA: pretty much  
CA: bring a dollar for dues  
CG: ALRIGHT.  
CG: FUCK, I GOTTA GO.  
CG: MOM IS CALLING ME FOR DINNER.  
[CG] 0:00 HOURS AGO left the memo.  


You log off Pesterchum before closing your laptop and setting it aside on your bed. “Coming!” You yell, getting up out of bed and heading downstairs. Your father is at the table, gathering up the papers he had been marking and setting them aside. Your mother is retrieving plates from the cupboard and Kevin’s footsteps were on the stairs.

“Hey sweetheart,” your mother greets as she begins placing pieces of chicken onto plates. All besides Kevin’s, anyway. “How was your first day at school? What classes did you get?”

You take a seat at the dining table, a little grumpy at her overwhelmingly warm nature. “It went fine. Got what I signed up for. Film, first period, AP Lit Two, Financial Management, and Marine Biology.”

“It’s good you’re taking a finance class,” your father adds, glancing up to you with kind eyes. “They should teach more things like that in school, honestly. You’re going to remember that more than calculus.”

“Augh,” you groan, rubbing your temples. “I take calc next semester and I am not looking forward to it.” 

The rest of dinner continues in a relatively normal manner. Mom asks if you met anyone new at school, you say no. Kevin talks about his classes, brags about the film on systematic oppression he’s going to be working on, and all the ideas he has for it. Dad listens quietly and occasionally prods you to see if any of the new friends you meet this week would like to attend his church on Sunday. 

Once dinner is done you head upstairs to shower and retire to your bedroom to watch movies for the night. You’re just at the scene when Hilary Swank has met Jeffrey Dean Morgan in Ireland while still chasing the memories of her dead husband. It’s emotional and wonderful and you should be entirely captivated by the scene. But you’re not. Your mind is elsewhere.

That kid you helped up today. You mean, thinking about it, it was pretty pitiful that he had the nerve to follow you after you helped him up but… He was new, and just received a pretty hard blow to the head. He probably didn’t know anyone else and it was one of those sorry excuse of a moments that lead to friendships starting. Like in middle school when Travis managed to break your toe under the wheel of his wheelchair. He felt so bad he came to visit you in the hospital afterwards, and you still hated his guts. Gavin had been visiting you, though, and had taken a liking to the guy. Life was fucked up in ways you had yet to understand.

You don’t know why you’re so hung up on the guy. After what you said to him today anyway, he probably wouldn’t want to be around you. Except you vaguely remember seeing the guy earlier in the day. In your film class, actually. Dammit. He is _not_ allowed to ruin that for you. You were looking forward to film class and he was not going to make it a miserable, awkward experience. Fuck that guy.

You groan in annoyance and turn off your movie. _P.S. I Love You_ is a work of art and it deserved nothing less than your full attention, so you’d simply have to watch it properly later. You huff, opening up Pesterchum and seeing if anyone else was still online and willing to entertain you.

  
\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] started pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA] \--  
CG: MY DAD SAID THAT IF I MADE ANY FRIENDS THIS WEEK TO INVITE THEM TO HIS CHURCH ON SUNDAY.  
GA: Are You Inviting Me  
GA: We Have Known Eachother Since We Were Four  
GA: I Do Not Believe I Count As A New Friend  
CG: YOU’RE ALSO NOT CHRISTIAN.  
GA: That Is True  
GA: But Neither Are You  
CG: BEING THE ATHEIST SON OF A PREACHER DOESN’T GET ME OUT OF CHURCH ACTIVITIES.  
CG: NO MATTER HOW MUCH I WISH IT WOULD.  
CG: I ALSO THINK SOME OF THE GROSS OLD PEOPLE IN MY CHURCH WOULD ACTUALLY HAVE STROKES IF A WOMAN IN A HIJAB STEPPED FOOT IN THERE.  
GA: I Would Be Doing The World A Justice Then  
CG: HAHAHA.  
CG: YEAH, TRUE.  
CG: FUCK OKAY, SO I DIDN’T ACTUALLY START THE CONVERSATION WITH THAT SUBJECT TO JOKINGLY INVITE YOU.  
CG: IT’S ALSO HILARIOUS THAT MY FATHER THINKS I’M GOING TO BEFRIEND ANY CHRISTIANS OR ANYONE AT ALL WITHIN THE NEXT COUPLE DAYS.  
CG: ANYWAY, I MET THIS GUY TODAY.  
GA: Are You Attracted To Him  
CG: WHAT??  
CG: NO EW FUCK.  
CG: I DIDN’T START THIS AS A GAY CONVERSATION, KANIA.  
GA: Oh  
GA: Well Since I Came Out The Earliest Amongst Our Friends Everyone Comes To Me As The Gay Counselor  
GA: I Assumed This Was The Same As That  
CG: NO.  
CG: WE ALL ALREADY KNOW HOW I AM INCAPABLE OF MAKING DECISIONS BECAUSE EVERYONE IS SO HOT AND IT’S SO UNFAIR BECAUSE NONE OF THEM WILL EVER LOWER THEIR STANDARDS ENOUGH TO DATE ME.  
CG: *ANYWAY*  
CG: I MET THIS GUY TODAY AND I WAS KIND OF A DICK TO HIM.  
CG: AND I HAVE A CLASS I LIKE WITH HIM.  
CG: SO I WANT TO MAKE SHIT BETTER AND NOT ROYALLY FUCK IT UP AND MAKE THAT CLASS SUCK.  
GA: Well Have You Considered Apologizing To Him  
GA: Invite Him To Your Fathers Church  
CG: YES BECAUSE THAT WILL ACTUALLY SOLVE EVERYTHING.  
GA: It Is A Nice Gesture  
CG: NOT GONNA HAPPEN.  
CG: LOOK OKAY, I’LL JUST. APOLOGIZE OR WHATEVER.  


*****

The next morning comes a lot more quickly than you’d like, if you were being entirely honest. The morning is a blur of dressing and brushing and shoving granola bars in your mouth while Kevin drives you to school. It’s a quiet drive, considering Kevin is very good at focusing on the road. It was the one time when he actually kept his loud mouth shut.

Once you’re at school you head straight for your locker and just take the things you need. Once your locker is closed, you sorta dwaddle for a few minutes. You don’t want to head to class yet and face Dave, so you actually buy some honey buns from the guy walking around selling snacks. You catch Kania’s eye before class, and you just give her a glare. She doesn’t seem bothered, and she simply waves to you before disappearing into a classroom. 

You finally suck it up and head to your class, heading straight into the classroom. As much as you built this up in your head, nothing spontaneously explodes or anything of that sort happens. Nobody even looks at you. Including Dave, who is sat at the back of the classroom nursing a thermos of coffee and picking a cinnamon bun and an apple on his desk. The teacher wasn’t in there yet, so he couldn’t possibly yell at him for eating.

It’s now or fucking never, you tell yourself. You take a deep breath, and then kinda just. Deflate and stare at him for a minute. He must feel your eyes on him, because he turns his head in your direction. It’s impossible to tell with the glasses, but you’re pretty sure he’s looking right at you. He doesn’t look mad either, so finally you just head over and sit down in the seat next to him without saying a word. 

He is still staring at you, so you arch a brow at him and he finally looks back to his cinnamon roll. He breaks off a piece, popping it in his mouth and slurping the icing off his fingers. It’s disgusting and you’re insanely jealous over how delicious it looks. Why the fuck did you get a honey bun instead? _Big Texas_ is where it’s fucking at.

Since he’s not hiding, you decide not to either and retrieve the half a thermos of coffee you have left from your car ride and take a big gulp of it. Then you pull out a honey bun to begin picking at that. It’s sticky and scrumptious, but you can still smell cinnamon and the honey tastes subpar in comparison.

When the teacher comes into the class, he doesn’t say much of anything about the two of you eating. He introduced himself as Mr. Smith yesterday, so he just takes attendance. When Dave raises his hand and says ‘here’, you give him a glance and notice his hand. It’s wrapped in bandages, which is weird. Did he hurt it? How the fuck did he manage that? You’re so distracted the teacher has to call your name twice before you put your hand up. Dave gives you a weird look, and you almost tell him to go fuck himself. _That’s not how you make friends_ , you remind yourself.

Film class is just starting, so it’s mostly just basics about the history of film and things of that sort. Mr. Smith passes the papers out and also your textbooks. It’s just the formalities of new class, but it’s still annoying. Once all of that is out of the way, he has you all going through the first chapter of the textbook and filling in the blanks of some packet. It’s easy work, and you’re done in about ten minutes. When you glance over, you notice Dave is also on the last page of the packet. You also notice that he is left-handed. Why do you care? You aren’t sure why you care, other than the fact that you know a freakish number of left-handed people. You knew like half of the lefty population in your high school, at least. All of your friends were left-handed, and it was so weird. Guess Dave would fit into the mold relatively well. That was a stupid reason for thinking that, but hell, you were going to take it. You needed weird, left-handed fate on your side right now.

Once Dave was done his packet, he sets it aside and goes back to sipping at his thermos. He glances over, once again catching you staring. “Dude, you’ve been gawking at me since you got here.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, reaching up and rubbing your temples. “Look okay can we just. Start over? Like, I was kind of a huge bag of dicks to you yesterday and it was stupid and sometimes that just happens. I’m famous for running my mouth without thinking about it and saying stuff I don’t mean. Trust me, the longer you know me, the more you’ll blow off every mean thing I say because I am full of hot air and it’s constantly trying to escape. I’m like a balloon full of air that somebody let go of and it’s just zipping around and it never seems to stop and nobody even understands how it’s still going at this point.”

Dave is staring at you, you think. Fuck those glasses, man. Why the hell was the guy even wearing them in class? 

“Fine,” he finally says, shrugging and crumpling up the wrapper to his cinnamon roll. You catch a whiff of cinnamon and are full of envy once again. “It’s not really a big deal man. Just had a shitty day yesterday and took the random shit you were spouting a lil’ too seriously, y’know?” He shrugs, and kinda freezes up for a moment before readjusting like he’s uncomfortable. You wonder if he’s in pain or something, but decide not to pry. You still want to know what he managed to do to his hand, but that wasn’t any of your business either. 

“Cool. So we’re good?” You inquire, and Dave nods. You are full of relief, and idly start thinking about how to go about making this guy your friend. Like, he didn’t seem generally awful. Maybe a little douchey, but hey, that’s pretty hypocritical of you to say. Who were you to be calling anyone a douchebag?

The rest of the class seems to go by relatively easily. You and Dave haven’t talked anymore, though, and you’re searching for excuses to ask him to hang out or something. It’s dumb, but Kania’s idea pops back in your head and you sort of blurt it out before you can stop yourself.

Dave is staring at you dumbstruck, and you can’t blame him. Just asking somebody if they wanna go hang out at church with you on Sunday must be the weirdest thing he’s heard in awhile.

“Uh.” Dave says, glancing down at his desk. At least you think he is. He turned his head downward, so probably? “I don’t really believe in God, man.”

“Neither do I,” you admit, deciding to try and elaborate. “My dad is a fucking preacher, and he just told me to invite any new friends I met this week to his Sunday mass and. I mean you obviously don’t have to fucking go. It would just be us sitting through his speech and a couple songs and then afterwards you could. I guess stop by and have Sunday lunch with my family. My mom always goes out and makes too much food, anyways. Fuck, okay this was a stupid idea, just forget I ever suggested it. I mean, who the fuck invites someone to hang out at church?”

“Nah man I mean. It uh. Sounds fun?” Dave manages, obviously not sure if ‘fun’ is the correct word. “Is your mom a good cook?”

“Oh she’s so fucking good.” You nod, drumming your fingers on your desk. “She’s making a ham this Sunday, with like, homemade cornbread and collard greens and a bunch of other shit. It’s fucking ridiculous and the only reason I go through with the church bullshit.”

Dave nods, and he seems more convinced. “Alright, sure. Fuck it. I’ll go. Did you want to do something afterwards?”

“Uh. I have video games at my house?” You offer, not entirely convinced you aren’t dreaming. This conversation could in no way be going this smoothly. You probably fell asleep on your desk and Dave was stacking paper airplanes on top of your head because he still thought you were a asshole.

“Cool. I like video games.” Dave spins his pencil around in his left hand like a cheerleader with a baton. It’s a fluid, smooth motion. Like he had a lot of practice spinning writing utensils in circles between his fingers. “What should I wear? I’ve never actually been to a church service…” He admits, looking like he was about to shrug again but quickly decided against it. You pause, watching him closely before finally answering him.

“Just a button up and some dress pants. And uh, I wouldn’t wear your fucking sunglasses.” You point out, glancing up.

“I gotta,” he replies, and you swear if he pulls a line about them being an important part of his image you’re going to actually punch him and take back this whole invitation of friendship. “Got an eye condition thing. Can’t handle lights.”

You weren’t expecting that, so you just stare at him for a moment before shrugging. “Alright, fine, then the glasses can stay I guess. But yeah, dress pants and a decent button up. You don’t need a tie or anything, and it’s way too hot for a jacket anyway.”

“Got it.” Dave nods, and it’s silent for a moment before the bell rings to signal the end of class. You gather up your things, and tell Dave you’ll talk to him after school in the parking lot. 

You pause before you leave the class, glancing back and watching him stand up a little shakily and gather his things. _None of your business_ , you remind yourself before leaving the classroom.

*****

  
\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] started pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA] \--  
CG: …  
GA: You Invited Him To Church Didnt You  
CG: I JUST WANTED TO REMIND YOU THAT I HATE YOU FOR SUGGESTING THIS.  
GA: Have Fun  
CG: FUCK YOU.  
\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA] \--  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cinnamon buns are obviously way better than honey buns. theres no competition really


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh gosh im so honored this fic already has 42 kudos?? like??? its only been out six days just omg I love u guys so much ok thank u for reading this  
> but anyway, there aren't any serious warnings for this chapter except some minor implied racism from an old southern lady named mrs. fortenberry and also they talk about pregnant furries so theres that. also this chapter features a really old meme  
> this is also the longest chapter yet its almost 6k.  
> also I know johns username should be ghostyTrickster since there was no game but I like ectoBiologist better so I used that one haha.

  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] started pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--  
TG: ok so dude like  
TG: im doing a thing today that ive never done before  
TG: and like you seem like a cookie cutter suburban kid who if the police investigated you for all of your crimes they would find like some pirated movies but thats about it  
TG: hell maybe you dont even pirate movies  
EB: unless pranks are illegal, then i’m as clean as a whistle dave!  
TG: what does clean as a whistle even fucking mean  
TG: like?? are whistles known for being clean  
EB: it’s not talking about an actual whistle, dave.  
EB: there’s like this quote or something with the phrase in history and it was referring to the whistling sound a sword made when it was swung to decapitate someone.  
TG: holy fuck  
TG: goddamn history is fucked up  
EB: right?? besides decapitating someone with a sword is lame.  
EB: there’s way cooler ways to die.  
TG: as wrong as i think you are im not going to argue because we got sidetracked  
TG: like dude okay i need your innocence and experience with normal cookie cutter life stuff  
TG: have you ever been to church  
EB: no, why?  
TG: damn  
TG: neither has rose and jade grew up alone on an island  
EB: why do you care about church suddenly?  
TG: i made this friend and like  
TG: his dad is a preacher and shit  
TG: and i was invited to church today  
TG: and i have no fucking idea what im doing  
EB: oh my god, dave.  
EB: i don’t think they allow raging homosexuals into church.  
TG: well no wonder youve never gone  
EB: haha okay i guess i deserved that one.  
TG: but dude seriously  
TG: how do people even act in church  
TG: do i just smile and pretend im not being spoon fed some righteous crock of shit and sing some songs about jesus  
TG: i dont know any songs about jesus  
TG: thats a lie i know that carrie underwood song  
TG: jesus take the wheeeeeeel take it from my haaannndsss i cant do this on my oownnnnn  
EB: dude please stop.  
EB: look okay i guess you just. show up and smile and be polite.  
TG: okay i can do that  
TG: just say yes ma’am yes sir yes jesus christ is my lord and savior  
EB: exactly.  
EB: also take some money like i think they pass around a hat and everyone puts a few dollars in?  
EB: i’ve seen that in movies before.  
TG: got it  
TG: thanks dude ok i can do this  
TG: ill talk to you later  
EB: have fun!  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--  


You head quickly into the bathroom, combing through your curls a bit and trying to shape your hair. Once it feels alright, you check your shirt several times over. You tuck it and untuck it and tuck it again. You decide tucked is probably best, and roll up your sleeves. You look good, you think. Your arms are relatively scarred up, though, so you roll your sleeves back down. You spritz yourself with some nice smelling cologne you picked up yesterday, because people who looked good should smell good as well. Right? Seemed like sound logic.

A quick trip to your bedroom and you’ve got your phone and charger tucked away in your sylladex. You carefully duck into the hallway and pause in the living room. Bro is at the computer, typing away something fierce.

“I’ll be back later.” You say, and Bro doesn’t respond. You’re just thankful he doesn’t want to strife while you’re in your new clothes. You bought two pairs of everything though, just in case. You simply head out of the apartment, and into the elevator. Nothing happens, so you think Bro is too busy with one of his sites to surprise attack you right now.

Once you’re on the ground floor you head to the nearest bus stop and wait a few minutes. The service starts at eleven, so you still had about an hour before you needed to be there. A few minutes later the bus shows up, and you sit down in a seat away from anyone else who was riding and pull out your phone. You manage to busy yourself with a few minutes of _Candy Crush_ to kill time. 

The ride itself only takes around thirty minutes, before you finally get off and have to walk the rest of the way. It’s early morning, so it was only around eight-five degrees. It would be in the nineties later on, though. You stuff your hands in your pockets and wander down the street. Following Karter’s instructions, you find the church after about fifteen minutes. There are a few people outside, just conversing amongst themselves. You inspect the crowd, earning a few glances. You don’t see Karter, but you see a young man who looks a lot like Karter. He’s a little taller, and stands straight. His hair is brown and neatly brushed back. He looks like a momma’s boy, if that made any sense.

“Uh, hey.” You wander up to him, unsure of how to introduce yourself. “I’m looking for Karter?”

“Oh!” He says, offering his hand. You stare at it for a moment longer than socially acceptable before shaking it. “You must be his friend Dave? I’m Karter’s older brother Kevin.”

“Oh yeah, you pick him up from school, right?” Karter had mentioned his brother a couple times. Usually sounding annoyed. You had waited with Karter after school a few times, just to talk mostly, but you never saw Kevin get out of the car. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” Kevin is smiling so brightly that you feel a little light-headed. He seems so genuinely excited about church, and you have no idea what to say to him. Which quickly you realize is not a problem because he has quite a bit to say to you. You spend the next five minutes listening to him talk about the church services, and man, was this guy a fucking blabbermouth. 

“Oh my god Kevin, stop.” You hear Karter’s voice as he comes up behind his brother and pushes the other aside with his shoulder. This earns a very unhappy look from Kevin.

“Karter, haven’t we had this conversation about my boundaries before? Shoving is extremely unreasonable and undeniably childish---”

“Look, screw off. I don’t have the patience for this. Please, lecture Mrs. Fortenberry, who has been giving Dave a look since before I got over here and clutching her purse.” He gives the old woman a glare, and you’re a little lost for words. Karter actually grabs you by the sleeve and starts to pull you inside, shaking his head. “Christ,” he mutters.

You’re trying not to laugh, really, because this experience has already been wild. “So. I can’t fucking believe you know a lady named Mrs. Fortenberry.”

“Yeah, she’s fucking awful. I swear she sees a tan white person and gets scared she’s gonna get robbed.” He pulls you over to some seats near the back, and you settle down next to him. People are sitting around, talking amongst themselves, but nobody is really paying any attention to the two of you.

“I’ll keep it in mind to stay away from her.” You sigh, looking around the church. It’s not huge, but you were relatively sure it held two services with about fifty people each. At least that’s what Karter said. You glance back at him, and he’s staring at you. It’s kind of weird, and you don’t know what to say about the look he’s giving you. “Uh, dude, what are you looking at?”

“Oh uh, you just. Smell really good is all.” He says, and then turns away, cheeks lighting up. You assume he’s embarrassed you caught him staring, and you look down at your pants. “You clean up nicely,” he comments, and you nod.

“Thanks. So do you.” He did look pretty different all dressed up. His hair was combed back, and his dress shirt was nice. The sleeves were rolled up, and it wasn’t ten sizes too big like some of his other clothes were. All in all, he looked good. That wasn’t weird. You were comfortable enough in your masculinity to admit another man looked good. 

“Oh thanks,” Karter mutters, and suddenly things are very quiet. You think maybe Karter thinks you’re weird. You didn’t like the awkward silence. It gave you too much time to your own thoughts.

“Karter, honey!” You pause, glancing up and watching a woman in her late thirties to older forties stroll on over. She’s dressed modestly, and her brown hair is curled in a way that makes you think she’s subscribed to _Better Homes and Gardens_. “Is this your friend?”

“Oh, uh yeah, Dave, this is my mom.” He says, looking to you and you stand up to greet her.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.” You say, trying to sound polite. You even hold out your hand, and she shakes it with a warm smile.

“Oh honey, aren’t you a doll? And so tall! Goodness, how old are you?” She has a hint of a southern accent. You do too, but for reasons more so involving Bro and less the state you live in. 

“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in December.” You try to stand up straight, and not say fuck. Just don’t say fuck. Though the way Karter talks, she probably wouldn’t mind too much. 

She nods, smiling wide and pausing. “And the sunglasses. Karter says you have some sort of… Eye condition? Is it too bright in here? We can always turn the lights down a little if you want! Or maybe a hat?”

“Oh no, ma’am. I’m alright. I wear protective contacts as well as the sunglasses to help block out light. Just an average case of photophobia brought on by the lack of melanin in my eyes.”

“Ohh. And melanin is…?” She pauses, like she’s trying to remember the biology class she took years ago.

“It’s basically the thing that gives stuff in your body… Like, shit, uh, color?” You realize you said shit, but she doesn’t seem too upset, so you try to ignore it. “Like I produce more melanin in my skin, which makes it darker. I just have this thing called ocular albinism and--”

“Wait, albinism? Like... albino?” Karter interjects, brows arching. “But you aren’t like… Pale?”

God, you wish you remembered the fancy terms better. “Well there’s two different kinds. Like, the one you’re thinking of is called. Augh uh, oculocutaneous? I think that’s the word. That’s the one where like, your hair is white and your skin is pale and all that. Ocular albinism just means I don’t get enough melanin in my eyes, so I don’t have any pigment protecting them from light getting into my retina.” Science was so cool, even though the migraines you got from looking at lights sucked ass.

“Huh,” Karter mutters, shrugging and sitting back down. He seems to be lulling that over. You decide to join him sitting, since somebody calls for Mrs. Vantas and she has to excuse herself anyway. “So what? Do you get headaches if you take them off?”

“Yeah. Real bad migraines.” You shrug, trying to settle back in your seat. The wooden benches do not feel good on the bruise on your back.

Karter is quiet, so you take in your surroundings and drum your fingers against your thighs. People begin filing into the church and taking seats, whispering to each other. There were lots of old ladies in fancy hats, and families with parents and lots of kids gathering into rows together. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have siblings. Would Bro like them more than you? You make a face, eyes moving to your shoes for a long moment as you consider this.

Your attention switches once a man walks onto the short stage up front. He dips his hand in what you think is a bowl of holy water as he makes his way over to his podium. He uses the wet hand to make a cross over his chest before smiling at the crowd. “Welcome everyone. I’m Pastor Silas. I’m so glad to see everyone’s bright and shining faces here today. If everyone would please stand and join me in prayer.” 

Everyone stands to stand up, so you do as well. They all look downward and close their eyes, so you follow the example and wonder what you’re supposed to do now. Pray? You peek an eye open and glance around, and ever Karter has his head hung and eyes closed. Hell, he’s even mouthing words silently. Okay Dave, you can do this. You close your eyes again and wonder what you could pray for. This school year to go faster? Uh, sure. _Hey God, if you’re like really a thing which I’m entirely convinced you aren’t, could you like make this school year suck less? Also like. Do something about this nasty mark on my back? Because boy howdy, does that shit hurt. Can I say shit while praying? Fuck, I don’t know. I also want less sex puppets in my life, ASAP. Also maybe could I like, get a girlfriend soon? That’d be cool._

You were trying to think of other things when Pastor Silas calls everyone’s attention again, and everyone begins sitting. You sit down, taking a deep breath and glancing to Karter. “What did you say?” You whisper to him, and he arches a brow.

“I was reciting Romeo and Juliet.” He whispers back, and you have to hold back the urge to snort at him.

“I asked for a girlfriend.” You say, and he arches a brow and whispers back a quiet ‘nice one’ before looking back up at this dad who was reading a passage. 

Sometime during the service, a hat does get passed around, and people are dropping money into it. You get out your wallet, and put a handful of ones in before passing it back to the row in front of you. Guess John was right on that one.

When the service is over, you get up and stretch a bit. It hurts your back, but your spine appreciates the way it gets to pop as you elongate your arms above head. The service was alright. You got hushed once or twice by the older woman sitting in front of you when you tried to talk to Karter, who flipped her off once she turned away from the two of you. Other than that it was uneventful, but not awful. Just a little boring. 

You follow Karter out of the row and outside, where you wait with him and take in the fresh air. It’s refreshing after sitting in a room full of so many warm bodies for about an hour, even if that Houston heat was setting in.

“So how was it? Be honest?” Karter asks, leaning against the half-wall made of bricks outside. You take a seat on it, lulling that question over for a long moment.

“I’ve never been in a room with so many white people in my entire life.” You finally declare, and he snorts and gives you a playful shove. You chuckle, watching people file out of the church and back to their cars in the crowded parking lot. “It was a’ight. I thought there was going to be singing.”

“White people don’t sing in church.” He replies, and it’s your turn to snort. “What? It’s so true. We just sit there and listen to my dad mostly. I once went to visit my Uncle Jack in Louisiana and he’s dating this art teacher right and everyone calls her Ms. Paint, but anyway, Ms. Paint is this little middle aged black lady and she’s very strict about taking Kevin and I to church when we come to visit. And their church is so much fun. Like we get to sing and clap and shit? Like you try to get this group of elderly white people to sing and they’ll complain about fucking millennials or something.”

You laugh at this, nodding your head and letting out a long sigh. “Man, old people are just so damn opposed to change.” This conversation continues on for another five minutes. Mostly just ragging on old people and how they hate the fact that the newer generation was making life easier.

Finally Mrs. Vantas approaches you, Kevin glued to her side and talking away about today’s service. She actually places a hand over his mouth for a moment, hushing him, before looking at you. “Hiya, sweetheart. How’d you like it?”

“It was a nice experience,” you reply, not feeling like you’re really lying. You still don’t give two fucks about religion, but it was a pretty interesting time. You don’t think you’d mind spending Sundays with Karter anyway. Sure, he was an asshole, but he was your favorite brand of asshole. 

After Pastor Silas has left the church and you’ve shaken his hand, the five of you walk down the street to the Vantas household. The neighborhood isn’t anything too special, but the houses are all neat two stories with nice landscapes. You bet a lot of the people here like to plant flowers. There’s also a lot of sprinklers, and you quietly think about how often this Texas heat puts everyone in a drought. 

Karter’s house is a cute two story, painted a faint yellow color with a green front door. The sidewalk is lined with pink flowers, and there’s comfy looking chairs on the front porch. All in all, it looks like a perfect little slice of suburbia. You wonder what it would be like to grow up in a house like that. It looks big. What would you even do with all that space? You assume that instead of smuppet piles, there would just be smuppets scattered everywhere. They’d have more room to spread out. Oh god, that sounds gross.

You simply follow them inside, looking around at everything. It’s so neat, really. The place smells like air freshener, too. You take your shoes off at the door and scoot them into the little pile of shoes by the door like everyone else does. 

“Mom, Dave and I are going to hang out upstairs until lunch is ready.” Karter says, and she simply smiles and tells you two to have fun. Karter taps your arm and leads you upstairs, and you’re a little blown away by just how much room is in this house. Hell, you’re a little envious. You wonder if John’s house is this big. Rose’s might be bigger. Jade lives in a fucking tower. So jealous.

You shake off these thoughts as the two of you make it into Karter’s room and he closes the door behind him. There’s a bed against the corner wall, and a desk across the room. There’s a television set up on a shelf, with a few things on the lower shelves underneath that. There’s even a bookshelf overflowing with books and DVDs. The walls are covered with various posters depicting movies that you made fun of in your spare time. 

“Dude,” you start, biting your limp and trying to stifle your laughter. “A _50 First Dates_ poster? Really? Like, okay, Drew Barrymore isn’t bad lookin’, I’ll give her that. But. Fucking Adam Sandler.”

“Hey, fuck off.” Karter growls, squatting down by his television and messing with the gaming system he had there. “Have you ever even seen that movie? It’s a fucking sob fest. She forgets everything every fucking day, and he still falls in love with her. He spends every day making her fall in love with him all over again because she can’t remember ever meeting him before. That’s some heart wrenching shit, Adam Sandler or not. Plus have you seen _Click_??? Adam Sandler is a damn good actor, and that movie is another goddamn sob fest.”

“You are so embarrassing.” You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head and looking down at your socked feet. “I’ll admit that _Grown Ups_ was alright. I even laughed a few times.”

“Fuck off. _Anger Management_ was so good, hell, even _The Cobbler_ was fantastic. It’s only funny to laugh at Adam Sandler because you cannot appreciate how good he is. Just like it’s funny to make fun of Nickelback.”

“Literally every Nickelback song sounds exactly the same.” You finally head over and just take a seat on the bed, and he hands you a controller. “Dude, is that a GameCube? Holy fuck.”

“Okay but their _All The Right Reasons_ album was good as fuck.” Karter argues, starting up the system and you watch the little cube animation. “And yes. We’re playing Sonic Adventure 2.”

“Oh my god, so you’re a fucking furry too, huh?” You inquire, and Karter’s face goes red. You’re dying. “Dude, oh my god, are you actually into furries because you are looking goddamn horrified.”

“ _Fuck off_ ,” he growls, and you know you’ve caught him. 

“I bet you’ve got anthropomorphic fox porn on your computer hidden in your Nickelback files. Just furry chicks with the biggest tits you’ve ever seen and they are all pregnant with Sonic’s babies.” You nod your head, feigning disgust. “I’m not here to kinkshame you, man. Except I’m totally here to kinkshame you. You and your pregnant foxes that are probably like green or some shit. Green foxes, man. That’s unhealthy.”

“They are fucking orange foxes and they are not pregnant.” You pause, wondering if he’s serious. “They simply ate Sonic. They only appear to be pregnant because their stomachs are so full.”

“Ohhhh,” you say, nodding your head. “They vore’d Sonic the Hedgehog.”

“Exactly.” Karter nods.

“I can’t believe Sonic the Hedgehog is fucking dead.”

*****

Sitting at the dinner table is an interesting experience. Everyone is just, gathered around the table, together. It’s pretty surreal, you think. Mrs. Vantas sets down plates in front of everyone and apologizes for not asking earlier if you were allergic to anything. You inform her that you are not, and she seems happy with this. Pastor Silas insists on praying before dinner, and everyone takes hands. It’s so weird. You just hold Karter’s hand and his mom’s hand and bow your head and wait. Once that was done, people started eating, so you went ahead and dug in.

“Man,” you said, chewing your way through a mouthful of collard greens. “These are delicious, Mrs. Vantas.”

“Thank you, sweetums.” She smiles warmly at you, and even touches your shoulder. What the fuck. That’s so… Nice? You don’t know how to process it. You think it would be nice to have a mom.

Dinner is well, super good. Salty as hell, and there’s enough butter on the plate to successfully make it so you think you can feel your arteries being clogged. It’s the only way southern food should ever be prepared, and you eat far too much of it. While Karter and you are both done with your plates, everyone else is still picking at their food. You think maybe normal people would find it rude to leave before dinner was over? You don’t know, but Karter stays, so you decide to do so as well. 

“So Dave,” Silas starts, and you glance up at him. “What classes are you taking?”

“Uh,” you pause, collecting your thoughts. “Film, Environmental Science, Life Drawing, and Home Ec.”

“You haven’t taken Home Ec. yet?” Karter inquires, turning to give you a look. “Pretty much everyone got that done and over with freshmen year.”

“My old school didn’t have it,” you shrug. “It’s required to graduate from Lamar, so I have to take it now. It’s not so bad. I sit next to this girl named Kania and she is trying to teach me how to sew.”

“Oh!” Silas grins, clapping his hands together and you’d be lying if you said the loud noise didn’t cause your spidey senses to tingle a bit. “Kania Maryam? We’ve known the Maryams for years. They actually live right down the street. Their daughter Rima is here most days.”

“She never leaves me alone,” Kevin mutters, picking at the salad he was eating. “I mean, do not get me wrong, she has every right to be… Well, whatever it is that she is, but I wish she would not just wander into our household and take our snacks and lay in my bed all of the time. She’s inconsiderate and slobbish.”

Karter leans over to whisper to you, except it’s not very quiet and you’re pretty sure he wants his brother to hear. “He’s been head over heels in love with Rima since they were like twelve and she think’s he’s an asshole.” You try to suppress a laugh, especially considering you can see the rage on Kevin’s face.

“I am not in love with her!” His voice raises an octave, and he even stands. So Karter stands, glaring but looking pretty damn smug.

“Please, it’s so obvious. We all see the goo goo eyes you give her.”

“I have taken a vow of celibacy!” He argues, hands balled into fists at his sides. “I am destined to take over the church after our father retires!”

“Oh come on, we both know dad broke that vow of celibacy a while back. I mean, we’re here after all.” Karter points out, and Kevin’s face gets bright red. He doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, especially considering Silas starts laughing.

“Your mother was a little bit like Rima back in my younger days, I think.” He starts, taking his wife’s hand and stroking it softly. “Free-spirited. My own mother hated her.”

“I had a fringe haircut,” Mrs. Vantas adds in a whisper, like this was some detail that made her a total badass. You can’t help but smile at how silly she is, and she smiles right back.

“What I’m saying is, Rima is young and you two are very different. But that doesn’t mean that you’re incompatible, or that nothing will ever happen. Just give it time.” Silas grins, and you feel weird seeing a dad just… Being so… Dadly? You guess John’s dad is probably a little like this guy, but you can’t imagine being raised by a person like this? It was a comfy life, sure, but… Was Karter prepared if something bad ever happened? He was a lot of bite, but no bark. He doesn’t know how to fight like you do. Sure he’s living, but he doesn’t know how to survive like you do. No one really knew how to survive like you do.

Dinner ends a few minutes later, and you and Karter end up back upstairs just chilling on his bed. You both are so full, and you don’t feel like going back to video games quite yet. You pat your stomach a bit, just taking in the ceiling and glancing over. Karter’s hair, which had been neatly brushed back this morning, was tousled and messy like it usually was. It was a mess of orange framing his freckly features. HIs nose was round, and his eyes wide and a light brownish shade. You stare at him for a moment, taking in his face. It’s weird, staring at him like this. You don’t know why you’re doing it, either. So you just, look away. At the ceiling. Yup, a mighty fine ceiling. Really… Ceiling-y. Yeah.

“When do you need to be home by?” Karter finally asks, tilting his head to look at you. You break your eyes away from the extremely interesting ceiling to look at him. 

“Doesn’t really matter,” you admit. “Bro isn’t big on curfews, honestly. I just gotta look up the bus schedule and we can pick a time.”

“Fuck that.” Karter scoffs, tucking an arm under his head and looking up at the ceiling. You knew that shit was interesting. “My mom can drive you home. It’s not really that far, anyway.”

You make a face, shrugging. “Nah man, the bus is fine. Really. There’s always cool people on the bus anyway. Y’know, the weird drunk guy, the lady who talks to herself. Once someone snuck a squirrel on the bus. Good times.”

Karter scoffed and smacks your arm. “My mom will throw a fit if you try to take the bus home.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because driving you would be so much easier and probably safer. She doesn’t even let me ride the bus.” Karter arches a brow, glancing at you. “What if somebody kidnapped me?”

“You aren’t even a kid,” you point out, feeling a little weird. You’d been taking the bus since you were pretty young. Bro didn’t really take you places that often. Occasionally he dragged you along to Fabrictopia down on Harwin Drive, or to any of the nearby take out places, but that was about it. “Plus I ride the bus like, twice a day anyway. I live in Downtown, so it’s not like I can walk all the way to Westheimer everyday anyway. I just catch the bus.”

“Augh,” Karter makes a face, and you wonder if he’s ever taken the bus anywhere. “Whatever. We’ll figure it out later. Let’s talk about something that is actually fucking interesting.”

You decide a change of topic would be good, and nod in agreement. “Okay. Like what?”

“How’s… Your dating life?” Karter finally throws out there, putting his hands up in a ‘I dunno’ gesture like he couldn’t find a better question. 

“Ah well y’know. Last time I smiled at a girl some dude punched me in the head so. Nonexistent.” It wasn’t any better at your last school either. Some douchenozzle started a rumor about you being gay, so none of the girls would take you seriously. You actually asked a girl to junior prom last year, and she laughed at you. “What about you man?”

“I have had a striking total of. One whole girlfriend. And that was in fucking middle school.” He reaches up, rubbing his temples in annoyance. “And now she’s dating some annoying chick who I can’t stand.”

You can’t help but bite your lip and try not to laugh. “Your girlfriend dumped you to become a lesbian?”

“Look, our break up was… Mostly mutual. She didn’t start dating Viktoria until last year. So fuck off. I didn’t turn her into a lesbian if that’s what you’re thinking.” He punches you in the arm, and you rub the sore spot and snort.

“If you say so,” you chuckle and he swats at you again. This turns into you both just. Lightly slapping at each other. Essentially it’s ridiculous, but a little fun. It finally dies down after a minute, and you laugh and Karter huffs but you think he’ll look back at it fondly later. Or maybe he hates your guts. You’re never sure.

The time to leave comes faster than you’d like it too, and Mrs. Vantas does insist on driving you once Karter informs her you planned on riding the bus home. You sit in the back seat with Karter and he pulls out his phone so you do the same. You have missed messages.

  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] started pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] is now an idle chum! --  
TT: I was curious as to how church went.  
TT: Are you getting along well with that Karter fellow?  
TT: Has he taught you how to accept Jesus Christ into your heart?  
TT: That if you just believe in God you will see the light and everything will be halos and puffy clouds forever?  
TT: That hardships are just God testing you and that he will give you the strength to get through all of it?  
TT: How are Christians so delusional.  
TG: hahaha as much fun as it is to laugh at religion you do kinda believe in giant tentacle beasts floating around in space  
TT: Touché.  
TG: it wasnt so bad tho  
TG: kinda boring but mostly i just dicked around with karter  
TG: i wouldnt mind going back  
TG: plus his moms cooking afterwards jesus christ  
TG: so fucking good  
TT: Well, I am glad you had a good time.  
TG: yeah  
TG: as for karter hes p alright  
TG: kind of a dick but like im also a dick so it works  
TG: i accused him of liking pregnant furry porn and he informed me he only likes furry vore  
TG: i think well go great places  
TG: fuckin rocket up that echeladder of friendship  
TT: A match made in heaven, it seems.  
TG: damn straight  
TG: brb gotta tell karter and his mom bye  
TT: Alright. I will simply sit here and continue knitting this bible cozy for you.  
TT: I will mail it immediately after it is finished.  
TT: I will also knit you a sweater with a knitted likeness of Jesus on it if you would like.  
TT: Actually, it does not matter if you like it or not.  
TG: ok back  
TG: ty rose i appreciate it i definitely need a jesus sweater in august  
TG: its 96 degrees rn thank fuck im finally in an air conditioned building  
TG: ok in the elevator  
TG: do people specifically make music for elevators?  
TG: is there like a whole genre of artists just producing music solely to play in elevators  
TG: how do i get in on that underground music shit  
TT: Fuck that noise.  
TG: hey dont hate on elevator music  
TT: Not that. I was referring to your hipster nonsense.  
TG: fuck you  
TT: Clever.  
TG: look okayefhwijowekmwenj  
TT: What?  
TT: Dave?  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] is now an idle chum! --  
TT: Did your elevator cord snap like in movies and you just fell several stories to your death?  
TT: I feel like you would’ve sent me an ironic message as you fell to your death, though.  
TT: Something along the lines of “I’m falling for you” or anything equally as cheesy and easy to come up with in a split second.  
TT:...  
TT: Dave?  
TT: Dave.  
TT: Are you alright?  
TT: If this is a joke, it’s not funny.  
TT: It’s been twenty minutes since you last messaged me. I know your address. I can dial 911.  
TT: My finger is on the button.  
TG: dont  
TT: There you are.   
TT: What happened?  
TG: surprise strife with bro  
TG: im gonna get off here  
TG: im not feeling very well  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also I didnt want to crowd the notes at the beginning too much but I went and made a minor change to chapter 1? like instead of walking home dave like walks to the restaurant, eats, messages rose, leaves and catches the bus the rest of the way home bc I did some mapping to figure out where dave would live and tbh to walk to school would take him over an hour so yeah nothing big just a lil change


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im only slightly addicted to this story!! only a little!!! (this is a lie im so addicted help)  
> but ok authors notes. im amazed this has FIFTY NINE kudos!!! what the HECK  
> ive also determined that if I just. spend all of my free time writing I can crank out these chapters so very fast and I love it  
> but ok warnings for this chapter: they go to anime club. fucking weebs. also theres some kinda generalized homophobia? like not straight on "i hate gay ppl!!" but more like "i don't mind gay ppl but they make me uncomfortable" sorta homophobia. also some like very cliché acephobia like "omg isn't that a plant thing" sorta stuff  
> also the way this chapter is broken up is a little confusing, so ok, the pesterlog at the beginning isn't really from dave or karkat's point of view. it's just sorta there. and then the following text after that is from karkat's point of view, and then later in the chapter it switches to dave's bc I wanted that scene in this chapter but I needed it to be from his pov. but yeah I kinda put their names before their parts so hopefully that makes it less confusing?  
> wow, that was a big block of text. hahah I talk too much, jeez. anyway, enjoy!

  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] started pestering gardenGnostic [GG] \--  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] added ectoBiologist [EB] to the conversation! --  
TT: Hello everyone.  
EB: hey there! :B  
GG: hiya!!!  
GG: is everything alright?  
GG: you dont make group chats often, soooo......  
TT: Well, no, I don’t believe everything is alright.  
TT: This has been something that has been on my mind for… Well, years.  
GG: D: oh no  
EB: woah! that’s a long time to keep your mouth shut about something rose.  
EB: i hope you know you can tell us anything.  
GG: im assuming its about dave?  
EB: what?? why??   
GG: she didnt add him to the chat, doofus  
TT: It is about Dave.  
EB: is he okay?  
TT: I don’t think so.  
TT: I don’t think he’s been okay ever, if we’re being completely honest here.  
TT: Haven’t either of you ever noticed how… Odd Dave’s life is.  
EB: you mean the puppets?  
TT: Not just the puppets.  
GG: he doesnt sleep well, either  
GG: or eat well  
TT: I think he’s traumatized.  
EB: wowie uh. traumatized? by what though?  
TT: Bro, mostly.  
GG: :( yeah, i guess that kinda was the elephant in the room, huh  
EB: isn’t traumatized kinda… extreme?  
EB: i mean, bro is really weird, yeah! but i don’t know.  
EB: i guess the sex puppets would be super weird to grow up around.  
TT: It’s not just the puppets. Or the porn. Or even the cameras set up around the apartment which are… Super gross.  
EB: wait, there are cameras set up in the apartment?  
TT: I once got curious and did some searching around, and found Bro’s site.  
TT: I check it from time to time.  
TT: Luckily the cameras aren’t set up in Dave’s room, but there is one in the bathroom.  
GG: ewwwww, oh my god!  
EB: that’s so fucked up, holy shit.  
TT: But once again, none of this is really the most concerning detail here. I mean, all of those are absolutely detrimental to Dave’s mental health in the long run.  
TT: But my main concern at the moment is the strifing.  
GG: isnt that just him and bro geeking out with their ninja swords?  
TT: No.  
TT: I used to think the same, but sometimes they strife inside of the apartment.  
TT: Once I actually saw it live through the streaming feed.  
TT: It’s not geeking around with ninja swords. It’s actual sword to sword combat.  
TT: The worst part is Dave doesn’t seem to actually stand a chance. The kid doesn’t eat well or sleep well, and doesn’t really do much else besides hide in his room when he isn’t strifing or at school.  
TT: Bro is a large guy, with a lot of muscle, and I essentially believe he beats the living shit out of Dave.  
TT: On a regular basis.  
GG: im gonna kill him.  
GG: im gonna go to texas and kill him!!  
GG: fuck this guy!!  
GG: i am seething with anger oh my goodness i could just!  
GG: punch this squiddle, i guess  
GG: thats really anticlimactic but i dont really have anything else to take my anger out on  
TT: Spare the innocent squiddle, Jade.  
TT: I will assist you in the murder of one Mr. Strider, though.  
TT: I should have said this earlier, in all honesty. I guess I just.  
TT: Wanted to deny it and pretend like Dave was alright.  
TT: I remember back when we were thirteen and Dave’s odd life was more funny than anything.  
TT: The puppets and the strifes and everything seemed… Harmless.  
TT: Especially considering we all strifed with our parents. But our’s was painless training. Nothing more than innocent sparring.  
TT: The worst injuries I have ever obtained during strifes with my mother were solved with bandaids and patronizing words.  
TT: But Dave and Bro’s strifes have always been different without us suspecting anything.  
TT: I always thought that they were just. Shitty ninja-training, sparring sessions between an overgrown weeaboo who was a slightly questionable parent and his child who idolized him above everything else.  
TT: It makes me sick to my stomach to think about how Dave still completely idolizes the guy who is ruining his life.  
TT: Sometimes when he’s gone a few days without sleep he rambles a little more loosely. A little less guarded.  
TT: And you can just tell how much he adores his Bro. He wants to be exactly like him.  
TT: And how much he feels as if he's disappointing him.  
TT: I feel like Dave would be mad if he knew we were here pitying him, but I’m not entirely sure what else to do.  
TT: I just don’t want him to  
TT: Nevermind.  
GG: what?  
GG: dont want him to what?  
TT: Nothing. I’m just being morbid.  
TT: John, you’re being awfully quiet.  
EB: i guess i just don’t know what to say.  
EB: i feel like a lot of this is just. catching me off guard.  
EB: dave always seems fine to me?  
EB: we just joke and shoot the shit!  
EB: i know i’m not really the most observant guy, and it’s not like i don’t trust you rose, but i just…  
EB: this all sounds like a really surreal bunch of bull honkey to me.  
EB: i’m just having trouble processing it is all.  
TT: Ah. It is quite a lot to hear.  
TT: I wouldn’t have said any of this if I was anything less than sure, though.  
TT: You probably haven’t noticed because Dave is entirely in denial.  
TT: He doesn’t even think that something is wrong.  
GG: poor dave… i still say we should murder bro  
TT: My mother and I have made a habit of watching crime shows together, and I think I have gathered enough knowledge to efficiently murder and not get caught.  
EB: guys!!  
GG: i have access to various types of acid to melt a body in  
EB: this isn’t funny.  
GG: im not joking  
EB: i will not be an accessory to murder! i am covering my eyes and i will worry about dave in a reasonable way all by myself.  
EB: wouldn’t calling the police help?  
TT: I have.  
GG: wait, you have?  
TT: The first time I saw them on webcam fighting, I googled up a police department near Dave’s house and I left an anonymous tip.  
TT: I even watched the police show up on cam, and they simply talked to Bro, and then to Dave, and then left.  
TT: And nothing happened after that.  
TT: That was a year ago.  
EB: but police officers are supposed to help!  
TT: John, Dave won’t admit what Bro is doing wrong. I could call the police a million times but Bro has his site set up so I cannot record or screenshot the stream. And Dave sure as hell isn’t going to be like, “Yeah, my Bro totally beats me. It sucks, man."  
EB: dammit…  
EB: that’s not okay.  
EB: none of this is okay!  
EB: my friends are supposed to be okay.  
EB: nobody should be allowed to hurt them except for me with my awesome pranking skills!  
EB: and even then it should only be a little pain that is cured with laughter.  
EB: dad is telling me i should go to bed.  
EB: should i tell my dad? could he help?  
TT: I don’t know.  
TT: And as much as I hate to admit it, I do not have all the answers.  
TT: I have read hundreds of books and spent hours shoulder deep in psychology articles and wikipedia pages.  
TT: And I haven’t the slightest clue what to do to help Dave.  
TT: I might tell my own mother. It feels childish, but if it helps Dave...  
GG: im scared for him :(  
TT: I am as well.  
EB: jeez…  
EB: i have to head to bed, guys.  
EB: i dunno how i’m gonna sleep with all of these thoughts swimming around in my head, though.  
TT: Good luck.  
GG: its even later here for me, so i should probably try to sleep as well  
GG: i say we all dream about murdering bro and maybe itll come true  
TT: I will try my hardest.  
EB: goodnight, ladies.  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] has left the conversation! --  
GG: nighty night rose!!! <3  
TT: Sweet dreams.  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] has ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] \--  


*****

**Karter:**

It’s the second week of school, and clubs are starting up. There’s lots of options, and you start to wonder if you should join more than just the GSA. Was there a club for romcoms? Because there damn well should be.

You huff, eyes gazing over the list. You could join Anime Club, probably. That was Tuesdays. GSA was Thursdays. You could join the Photography and Film club, too. That was one Wednesdays. Cool, three days of the week with something interesting to do afterwards.

You glance over at Dave, who has been surprisingly quiet this whole period. He looks tired, like maybe he didn’t sleep well. “Hey,” you whisper, and he doesn’t look at you. You nudge him, and he jumps a little and holds up his arm. “Dude, chill,” you tell him, grabbing his arm and pushing it down. Jeez, way to overreact. “What clubs are you going to join?”

Dave stares at you, before glancing back down at the sheet of paper and finally giving it a glance over. You give him a minute to soak in all the information and form ideas in the slowly turning cogs of his brain. You feel a little weird watching him, but you can’t help it. The asshole showed up to your church yesterday smelling like nice aftershave and looking like a fucking heart throb. What gave him the right? You told him to dress nice, not dress nice enough to make you swoon. You hear Kania’s voice in your head ( GA: Are You Attracted To Him) and feel like an idiot. It was just how friendship worked. You did this all the time. You crush on all of your new friends. It’ll pass.

“Probably Art Club,” he finally mutters, brushing his puff of hair back sleepily. Part of you wants to touch it. The other part wants to punch yourself in the face for wanting to touch it. “Probably Film, too.” He yawns a bit, settling back in his chair and looking at the paper.

“What about Anime Club?” You inquire, and he glances at you, brows raised. “Hey, fuck off. Don’t judge.”

“I guess I could join Anime Club if you want me to.” _Don’t fucking say that_ , you think, staring at him. He should be joining because he’s into it, and not because you want more friends in your clubs. “I saw that one anime that one time. The yellow haired kid in orange? Who runs like a fucking idiot?”

You scoff, folding your arms on top of your desk and resting your chin on them. “You don’t have to join for me.”

“Nah it’s cool. Need to get out of the apartment more, anyway. It'll look good on college applications. Watched some Japanese cartoons. Makes me look... Cultured.” He mutters, following your example and resting his face on his desk. His arm bumps the apple sitting on his desk, and it rolls over to hit you. You sit up, pick it up, and arch a brow.

“I’m going to eat your apple.”

Dave turns his head, brows arched at you and giving you a deadpan look. “Why don’t you eat my dick while you’re at it.”

“We’ve already established I’m into vore,” you joke, and you see the straight line of his mouth twitch a bit before he turns his head back against his desk. You take the apple, and balance it on the back of his head. It stays there, and he does not move.

The teacher doesn’t seem to actually give a single shit about anything happening in class, so Dave fast asleep on his desk with an apple balanced on his head doesn’t bother the guy in the slightest. He just continues going on about cameras, and you idly listen and wonder when you were going to get to make short films or do something that was actually interesting, and not learning more about the technical parts of film.

It’s Monday morning, so everyone in class seems to be in the same tired haze. At least until Dave sits up quickly next to you, his apple toppling noisily to the floor and him panting a bit. You stare at him, along with just about everyone else in class. He glances around, looking a little meek and lost for words. This guy was not good at getting himself out of shitty situations, was he? Laying on the fucking ground, staring back speechless, whatever it was, he was a goddamn doormat.

You turn around and lean down to pick up the apple and set it on the desk. Everyone kinda turns to look at you, and well, you flip them off. The teacher is less than happy with this, and you are issued a warning. 

Class ends, and you’ve learned that Dave’s Environmental Science class is on the way to your AP Lit class. So he walks with you, hands tucked in his pockets, and seeming to be in a bit of a stupor. “ _Dude_ ,” you start, and he glances down at you. “What is even up with you today? I get I’ve only known you for a week, but you’re a lot weirder than usual.”

“Just tired,” he replies, his voice flat. You don’t like that. Yesterday he was having such a good time, and smiling. You wonder if you did something wrong. A moment after having that thought, you are entirely convinced you fucked something up. You huff, grabbing his arm and pulling him off to the side of the hall by a doorway.

“Look, if I did something to piss you off and you don’t want to talk to me, then just tell me. I am the biggest fucking idiot this planet has ever seen, maybe even this universe. If aliens ever met me they would launch nuclear war on our planet instantly just to be rid of me. I am a goddamn social pariah and due to this my people skills are less than decent.” You were yelling, dammit. Dammit dammit dammit. You had serious volume control issues, and several passing people had stopped to watch you. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to raise my voice.” You say, because frankly Dave has shrunk back from you a little, and seems more on edge. “I am royally screwing this shit in the worst possible direction. Fucking Christ on a cracker.”

“No, dude, I.” Dave pauses, trying to collect his words. “Look, you’re fine. Seriously. I just stayed up really late last night and I’m super fucking out of it. Greg Nicotero could slap some makeup on me and just have be wandering around a set until Andrew Lincoln put a bullet in me.”

“I… Don’t get the reference.”

“ _The Walking Dead_ , dude.” He yawns, rubbing his eyes. “Whatever. I don’t watch it either. I just know too many words and too many bits and pieces of too many things. My brain is one of those spinning bingo doohickies and I’m just winding that little crank in circles over and over again and pulling out balls with different pop culture references and profanities on them. It’s a wild ride and all of the old people are having a bad time. Old Jeffrey in the back with all the war stories is having a stroke on the floor but his nurse doesn’t get paid enough to care. Gertrude is trying to convince one of the younger staff members there that having no teeth leads to a great blowjob. And then there’s Bertha and let me tell you about Bertha man. She’s just---” He pauses when the bell to class rings, and you both simultaneously blurt out ‘fuck’ and scurry out of your corner of the hallway and to class.

*****

It’s Tuesday now, and Dave seems a little better today. At least he was more awake, and less zombie-like. Film class passed quickly, but the rest of your classes drag a little. At least you have Dave to whisper to in first period, but you don’t see him again until lunch. So AP Lit sucks, and Financial Management is alright. As a starter, you guys are playing this sort of really in depth _Game of Life_ thing. The cards you draw are more serious, and everyone has budgets and drew cards for jobs and salaries and things. It’s kinda fun.

At lunch, you manage to locate Dave, who is waiting for you at the table by the window. Gavin and Travis sit there as well, but you don’t see them. Probably in line. You head on over, setting your books down and looking to Dave. “Come on, if we head up there now we might still be able to get something decent.” He nods, and the two of you get into a line. 

The cafeteria is serving breakfast for lunch, so you and Dave both end up with some mini microwaved pancakes, cold tater tots, a fruit cup, some powdered eggs, and a questionable sausage patty. He buys you both a bottle of tea, and you find yourselves back at the table with Gavin and Travis. 

“Dude,” Dave starts, glancing up at Travis. “Are you like a vegetarian or something? You eat salad like, every day, pretty much.”

“Oh,” Travis blinks, glancing at his food and pushing the lettuce around with the fork. “Kinda. I’m a pescetarian. Which like, just means that I. Well, don’t eat any meat besides fish.”

Dave nods at that, seeming to process it as he peels back the lid of a tiny single serving of syrup and dumps it all over his pancakes, sausage, and eggs. He stabs the sausage with his fork, holding it up. “I wonder what kind of meat is in this. I bet there’s an animal dick in it.” He says this, considering it for a moment, before taking a bite of it.

“You can have mine,” you tell him, pushing yours onto his styrofoam tray. You pick at the eggs that are too formed and too yellow and make a face, tasting them and sighing. They don’t taste like much of anything, so you follow Dave’s example and just cover everything in sugary fake maple syrup.

You watch Dave stack tater tots into a mini pancake and fold it like a taco, and then eat half of it in one bite. “You are disgusting,” you inform him. Then you proceed to do exactly the same thing and make a face. “Fuck, I was right, so gross. It’s nothing but doughy starchy grossness. These textures don’t mix at all.”

“Dude, you’re delusional.” Dave scoffs, popping the other half into his mouth and chewing. When he’s done, he cracks open his tea and takes a couple sips before setting it down and picking at his fruit cup. 

“Oh bro,” Gavin starts, moving to dig through his bag before moving to hand you a container. You peel it open, and even crack a grin at the brownies inside. 

“These better be legal,” you say, picking one up, and he shrugs. “Gavin, seriously. Am I gonna be high as a fucking kite if I eat these.”

“I already ate three,” Travis says, shrugging. “There is a decent chance, that I am well, very much sober. Hopefuly.”

You nod, setting the one down and taking out another to place on top of it. Hell, you’re nice and even give two to Dave who doesn’t even ask for one. You close the container and slide it back towards Gavin, who ignores it. He seems to be searching for something in his sylladex, though, because suddenly a mess of pencils fly everywhere and he squeaks loudly. 

“God fucking dammit Gavin,” you groan, picking a pencil out of the syrup pooling on your tray. “Are you still using that god forsaken miracle modus??” The pencil is dripping, and you throw it at him. He just laughs.

“Holy motherfuckin’ shit man,” he starts, just shrugging his shoulders. “Y’know, sometimes things just like to get their lil’ selves up to soarin’, ya dig? They just gotta spread their motherfuckin’ wings and get to all them places they be tryin’ to get to be.” 

You stare at Gavin for a solid minute, before grabbing the container and putting yours and Dave’s brownies back. Dave gives you a questioning look. 

“I don’t trust them.”

*****

When Anime Club comes around, you and Dave end up sitting together in one of the art classrooms. Natalie comes over to sit with you two, and introduces herself to Dave. There’s quite a few kids there, but a lot of reoccurring themes. A lot of anime shirts, or keychains, and messy hair and also a freshman who wore jeans with a skirt overtop. You’re catching a serious case of secondhand embarrassment just looking at some of them, so you’re thankful when Natalie puts InuYasha on and you all just watch the screen. Dave seems bored, and pulls out the sketchpad from his art class and starts working on something in there. It’s just some shaded shapes and shit, but it looks good. When he catches you staring, he switches from one of the shapes and goes into a margin to draw a quick tiny version of you riding a gigantic dick like a legless horse. You punch him in the arm.

*****

Wednesday is Photography and Film Club, and Dave even brought his nice Nikon camera, which he showed you at lunch time and the two of you took some extremely embarrassing selfies. Dave said they were going on his blog. You weren’t surprised he had a blog.

When you walk into the club, you notice Erin almost immediately. You huff, and Dave pauses to give you a look. “Him,” you say, nodding your head towards Erin. Erin is a man of average height, with a swimmer’s build and the most perfectly shaped quiff you’ve ever seen. There’s a streak of purple in there, and he has a ridiculous amount of vintage rings wrapped around his fingers. Essentially, he looks like a prick. And you couldn’t wait to hear all the juicy gossip he was going to tell you. The two of you head over and sit down across the table, and Erin nods at Dave and quick greetings are exchanged.

“So,” you say, ignoring the movie about the history of film the club president had put in, and lean towards Erin. “Please tell me you have something to say that is more interesting than this damn movie.”

“Oh Kar,” Erin grins, intertwining his fingers and resting his chin on them as he smirks. “I have lots to tell.”

*****

**Dave:**

It had become such a habit at this point, following Karter around after school to whatever club. It was kinda fun, and you didn’t want to go home yet anyway. It’s not like Bro left the apartment that often, so he was always around to strife when he wanted. Other than that, you would’ve just stayed in your room.

So you do not even ask what club Karter has on Thursdays; you just follow him there. When you guys enter the classroom, all of the chairs are arranged in a big circle and all of the desks are pushed out of the way. It’s weird, and you think it looks like a support group. AA for tiny Texan teens.

You just sit down next to Karter, and he shoves his bookbag under his chair and relaxes. You recognize a couple people sitting around, like Erin and that girl you think is his kinda girlfriend except not? Faelyn, you think her name is. And there’s Natalie talking to the teacher by the desk. And Gavin and Travis are sitting together across the room. Kania shows up a moment later, actually taking a seat down next to you and giving you a small smile. Cool. You know these people. Still had no idea what this club was, though.

Once a lot of the chairs are full, Natalie is in the middle of the circle with a clipboard and hands it to one of the people in the circle. “This is a sign in sheet, guys. We’ll be collecting your dues furry-- oops, very, shortly!” She grins, clapping her hands together and tucking her brownish red hair behind her ears. 

“Okay,” she finally starts, grinning and looking at everyone in the room. “I have been trying to get this club started since early last year, and here we are. Welcome to our very first Gay-Straight Alliance meeting!” She claps again, and a couple of other people try to half-heartedly clap back to humor her.

You are frozen in your spot, staring at the people around you for a long moment. You glance at Kania, and Karter, and Erin, and Faelyn, and Natalie. You don’t glance at Gavin and Travis because they’re obviously gay, but. Holy fuck. You’re going to have to sneak out the window. 

Okay, that’s a dumb idea. You can’t sneak out the window. You just sorta freeze up, wondering if maybe you could slide out the door and play it off like you went to the wrong club. Would Karter get upset, though? Does this mean Karter is gay? Fuck. 

“I say we should start by introducing ourselves. Obviously you don’t have to speak if you don’t want to, but this is a safe place! I guess I will start, and then Erin, you’re our vice president so you should go next?” She glances over, and Erin nods, so she smiles and starts. “My name is Natalie Leijon, I’m the president of this club. I am eighteen years old, and I am bisexual. I figured out I was bisexual… Relatively young, I think! I think part of me always knew,” She muses, before shrugging and waving at Erin.

He stands up, heading over to stand by Natalie and brushing his hair back some. You are still frozen. “My name is Erin Daniel Ampora,” his accent is a little thicker than usual and you would think he was nervous if you weren’t freaking out too much to notice. “I’m eighteen as well, and I… Don’t really like labels. I think romantically I am more inclined towards girls, but I am attracted to both men and women equally I think.” 

Natalie smiles, looking around and finally looking at Karter. He arches a brow, but huffs and decides it’s his turn. “My name is Karter Vantas, I am eighteen, uh. I am pansexual as fuck.” Natalie makes a face, whispering “language!” at him quickly because the teacher supervising is giving him a look. “Shi-- Sorry, sorry.” He messes up his own hair, trying to figure out his words. “But yeah, pansexual, and romantically attracted to anyone with a pulse pretty much.”

What the fuck was a pansexual?? You have no idea. You want to get your phone out and google, but Natalie is looking at you now. “Um,” you start, and she giggles a little.

“Oh Dave, don’t be nervous!!” She insists. “You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to.”

You nod, but swallow. “I”m uh, Dave Strider.” You start, trying to form words that made coherent sense. “I’m seventeen, and I’m straight. As a board. I just followed Karter here and I can like leave if I’m not welcome--”

“No, no!!” Natalie shakes her head, smiling. “That’s fine! It’s the Gay-Straight Alliance, meaning that as long as you’re open minded and here to be polite and join in the conversation, it doesn’t matter what your sexuality is.”

You just sort of nod, sinking in your seat. Karter is staring at you. You look at him, and he huffs but looks down at his feet. What was that? You hope he’s not mad at you. You don’t know why he would be mad at you. 

“My name is Kania Maryam,” you pause to glance over at the girl next to you. She’s always so composed, so poised. “I am eighteen, and I am a lesbian. Coming from a conservative Muslim household, it took a little while for my parents to come around. I have been out for about five years now, though, and they have some around. I have… Always liked girls. Even when I was younger I would have my dolls marry each other.” She chuckles, shrugging her shoulders.

This continues, just going around the circle and you continue to stay quiet and wonder what some of the words being thrown around mean. Why did some of these people separate who they were romantically and sexually attracted to? Was that a thing? Someone throws around the term asexual, and you’re even more confused. That’s a plant thing. Also Godzilla. You remember Godzilla produced asexually. You finally break and get out your phone, and start googling.

When pansexual comes up, it’s defined as “not limited in sexual choice with regard to biological sex, gender, or gender identity.” Okay. That’s not too confusing. What did it mean by gender identity, though? You huff, knowing you’ll be googling more of this tonight. You google asexual next, and find the definition “a person with no sexual feelings or desires.” That’s a thing? All of this is very much new and confusing. You wondered if Rose knew anything about any of this.

As the meeting continues, people begin talking about their relationships and issues dating and issues with their parents and family members and friends. It’s sort of wild to hear all these stories, honestly. Especially from the people in the group who you’ve known for days and had no idea were even gay. Or whatever term they used. 

Finally the meeting comes to a close, Karter starts gathering his stuff so you do the same. You silently follow him outside and sit down on the cement rimming of the parking lot together.

“So,” he starts, but doesn’t continue. He’s quiet for a good minute, and you aren’t sure if he’s going to even finish his sentence. Then he starts speaking again. “You were freaking out in there.”

You don’t know what to say to that, at all. “I’m not... I don’t--” You pause, not entirely sure how to continue speaking. “I didn’t know you were…”

“Is that going to be a fucking problem?” Oh he sounds mad. You can hear the bite in his voice, so you keep your eyes on the ground and don’t look at him.

“Fuck, no, no it’s fine I just-- Fuck, I don’t know! Are you like… Into me?” That was definitely the wrong thing to say. You know this because you look at him and he stands up, fists balled up at his side. He’s going to hit you. He’s definitely going to hit you. Oh god.

“I cannot fucking believe you!” He shakes his head, flailing his arms a bit and you flinch away from him. “I know I’ve only known you for like two weeks, but fuck, I actually expected more. Guess I’m a giant fucking moron, huh? Do you really wanna know if I’m into you, Dave? Would that really rub you the wrong way if I told you that you’re _hot_? Huh?”

“Dude, I--” He’s not going to let you continue, and it’s not like you knew what to say anyway.

“Leave! Just go! I’m going to wait for my ride on my own. Fuck off.” He hisses, and you sort of gawk at him for a long moment. You feel awful, but you don’t argue. You stand up and just sort of. Leave. 

Well, you’re certainly good at royally fucking everything up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet yall didn't expect this shit to go from anime club to angst.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im almost at 80 kudos and tbh its so exciting  
> I was sitting in the car today writing the second half of this chapter in the notes on my phone bc I wanted to get it done and posted!! this is so exciting  
> no real warnings for this chapter except homophobia tbh mostly on john and daves parts bc they are being very very what!!! how interact with a Gay™!!!! we just dont know??????  
> also theres like. some game mentions in this?? idk im not gonna connect this au to sburb too much but there is def a bit of a link idk itll make sense when you get to the bro part  
> I also apologize if there are typos ill go back and proofread it better later but rn my brain doesn't want to work and I just want to get it posted

  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] started pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--  
TG: can we talk  
EB: are you okay?  
TG: i dont know  
TG: i really fucked up but im not sure if its my fault  
TG: its probably my fault  
TG: god  
TG: fuck fuck fuck  
EB: dude, okay, calm down.  
EB: what happened?  
TG: ok so yknow karter  
EB: yeah! that ginger dude you’ve been hanging out with.  
TG: yeah well anyway i just kinda followed him today after school to whatever club he was going to  
TG: i didnt feel like going home anyway  
TG: but it was like the gay club  
TG: because hes gay  
EB: oh.  
TG: and i didnt know what to do like it was a goddamn support group egbert  
TG: we introduced ourselves and told stories and like  
TG: when the president wanted me to speak she told me i could stay even if i was straight but  
TG: i was freaking out because like a ton of my new friends are there  
TG: and i didnt know any of them were gay  
TG: i had no fucking idea karter was  
TG: so when we got out of the club he was mad at me for freaking out  
TG: like  
TG: i dont mind gay people??  
TG: like rose is super gay  
TG: i just have no fucking idea how to be friends with a gay guy  
EB: wow, yeah. i wouldn’t know how to be friends with a gay guy either.  
EB: do you think that… karter likes you?  
TG: i asked him  
TG: and he got really mad and yelled at me and told me to fuck off  
TG: this cant be my fault like he shouldve told me from the get go right???  
EB: i don’t know?? i’ve never been friends with a gay guy before!  
EB: i don’t know how it works.  
TG: god this cannot be happening  
TG: i cant be friends with a gay guy  
TG: people will talk  
TG: its not like i dont get enough shit at school already for just fucking existing  
EB: are people at school really mean to you or something?  
TG: fuck  
TG: god i fucked up   
TG: i should talk to him shouldnt i  
EB: you didn’t answer my question.  
TG: im gonna talk to him  
TG: brb  


You close that chat, and very nervously stare at Karter’s chumhandle. He’s online, and you feel sick to your stomach. You don’t want him to hate you.

  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] started pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--  
TG: i dont know what to say other than i dont want you to hate me  
TG: which sounds stupid and clingy and gross  
TG: but im probably at fault here  
TG: just tell me how to fix this  
CG: YOU’RE PATHETIC.  
TG: i know  
CG: CHRIST.  
CG: YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAY SOMETHING AS EQUALLY AS ASSHOLISH BACK.  
CG: YOU’RE ACTUALLY UPSET, AREN’T YOU?  
CG: I WAS ALMOST CONVINCED YOU DIDN’T HAVE ANY FEELINGS AT ALL, YOU FUCKING DICK.  


  
EB: dave, you’re ignoring my question.  
TG: he called me pathetic  
EB: woah, that’s not nice.  
TG: its true  


  
TG: can you just tell me what i did wrong so i can fix it  
CG: I FUCKING HATE STRAIGHT GUYS.  
CG: AUGH, FUCK, OKAY.  
CG: LOOK.  
CG: YOU CAN’T JUST ASSUME THAT I’M GOING TO LIKE YOU BECAUSE I’M INTO GUYS.  
CG: WAY TO BE A GROSS PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLE.  
CG: DO YOU ASSUME EVERY GIRL YOU SEE THINKS YOU’RE THE HOTTEST SHIT ALIVE?  
TG: i guess not  
CG: EXACTLY.  
CG: BESIDES YOU’RE NOT EVEN MY TYPE.  
CG: I LIKE GUYS WHO AREN’T JERKS.  


  
EB: no it’s not!  
EB: dave, you can’t believe that.  
TG: CG: BESIDES YOU’RE NOT EVEN MY TYPE. CG: I LIKE GUYS WHO AREN’T JERKS.  
EB: is his caps lock broken?  
TG: he always types like that  
TG: i dont know what to say  
EB: why would i know!  
TG: i dont fucking know Egbert  


  
CG: ARE YOU GONNA SAY ANYTHING?  
TG: i dont know what to say  
CG: I THINK AN APOLOGY WOULD BE A GOOD PLACE TO START, SHIT FOR BRAINS.  
TG: im sorry  
CG: FOR?  
TG: i guess for assuming you had some like  
TG: ulterior motive to jump my bones  
CG: FINE. I’LL TAKE IT.  
TG: so were good  
CG: JUST DON’T FREAK OUT AGAIN LIKE THAT.  
TG: ok  


  
TG: i think i fixed it  
EB: well that’s good.  
EB: can you stop avoiding my question now?  
TG: what was it  
EB: are people at school mean to you?  
TG: yeah but to be fair im an asshole  
EB: dave, i’m serious.  
TG: so am i  
TG: man how did it become 9  


You kinda stare at the clock, realizing that you’ve been sitting in your room panicking for the last like three hours. You haven’t eaten since noon, either.

  
TG: i should go eat something  
EB: you didn’t have dinner?  
TG: nah after i got home i took a nap  
TG: im gonna go see whats in the kitchen  


  
TG: hey dude brb im gonna find some food  
CG: ALRIGHT.  


You leave your computer desk and shove your phone in pocket. You head into the hallway, and very carefully head into the living room. Your mind is set on your strife specibi so you can deploy your sword quickly if need be. But Bro is on the futon, with the phone to his ear and the television on mute. He doesn’t sound happy.

“ _Roxy_ ,” he says, his voice monotone but annoyed. “The kid is still alive, ain’t he? I don’t get what you’re so concerned over.” He’s quiet, and you stay in the doorway silently. You don’t eavesdrop on Bro often, but the name Roxy sounds familiar to you. Plus, he’s definitely talking about you.

“Look, you don’t know that.” He says, taking off his hat and setting it on the couch. He ruffles his own hair with a gloved hand, groaning a bit. “Roxy, even if the game isn’t going to happen then why the hell would I get stuck with a kid in the first place?” What game? The riddles Bro spoke in were always confusing.

“I’m not the same Dirk you knew, huh?” He inquires, sounding genuinely mad. It’s scary. “Well, you’re exactly the same Roxy. All the memories might be fuzzy around the fuckin’ edges but you are just as drunk and just as annoying as you’ve always been.” The other line goes quiet, and then you see Bro set the phone down. Whoever Roxy was, she hung up on him.

You continue to stand in the doorway, not sure what to do. Bro was genuinely mad, and that wasn’t a common sight. You’re tempted to just hide in your room for the rest of the night, and after a moment, you decide that would be best. You slowly slink back from the doorway, closing it as quietly as possible and starting back towards your door.

Except the door opens a moment after you close it, and you pause to stare at Bro. “Roof.” He says, his voice back to it’s usual monotone. “Now.” You stare at him for a moment, before simply nodding. And then he’s just gone. 

You duck into your room and change your shirt. You like the one you were wearing, so you don’t want it to get ruined. You put on an older one, that still had fading bloodstains from a previous strife session. You put your phone in your sylladex so you won’t get broken, and finally you make your way out of the apartment and up the stairs that led to the roof. 

The roof is a familiar site. It has been for years. It was sort of Bro’s sanctuary in a way, you think. He spent most of the time not spent in the apartment up here, training. And it showed. Bro was a big guy, around 6’2, and with sculpted arms. It’s sort of ridiculous how ripped he is, considering he’s a forty year old ninja, but you weren’t gonna rag on the guy. You were a twig in comparison. 

He pulls the plastic tarp off of his training equipment, looking over the rack of swords he had there. There was a shredded training tummy laid out on the ground, and a series of other weapons that were all intimidatingly sharp. “Dave,” he starts, and you instantly feel worried. When was the last time he called you by name? You accidentally cut off Lil Cal’s foot in a training session when you were fifteen, and remember very well the way he said your name. 

“Yeah?” You manage. It’s dark on the roof, except for the lights that Bro has set up around. They’re too bright and even with your glasses and contacts, your head throbs a little if you look at them too closely. 

He draws a katana from the rack, running his fingers along the blade before turning and looking you over. You can feel the way his eyes scan you, measuring you up, determining what level of threat you’d be. He’s done this for years, like a way of reviewing your training. “You don’t try hard enough,” he says suddenly, and you almost feel like crying. Fucking crying. The way your eyes sting makes you realize just how weak you are. “At first I thought I wasn’t getting in enough hours of training with you.” He starts, setting down on the old chair he’d had up on this rooftop for as long as you can remember. “But that’s not the case. You aren’t bad with a sword, but you’re severely lacking in strength.” He pulls a cloth from his sylladex, just shining it up and down the blade. You want to sit down, but you aren’t sure if you’re allowed to.

“You don’t seem to be built for strength though,” he continues, and you don’t think he’s looking at you. He looks so cool there, just nonchalantly handling the weapon in his worn fingers, caring for the blade. Bro was always particular about his swords. He kept them looking nice. “What do you weigh? One-twenty?” He arches a brow, and you shrug because honestly you aren’t quite sure. You never grew out of your awkwardly skinny phase, but that was probably because you didn’t eat often enough. Your stomach growls when you think about food, but if Bro noticed he doesn’t say anything. 

“The only thing you’ve got going for you is that you’re quick on your feet,” he continues, tilting the blade and the light reflects off of it and into your face. You wince, and you almost don’t notice the way he’s suddenly standing. You’re quick to dodge the kick that comes your way, scrambling back away from him. He slowly lowers his leg, and just looks at you. “Exactly.” He says, and you feel as if you’ve passed his test. Your heart is pounding in your chest now, and every inch of your skin feels tingly with electricity. You’re ready to run.

Except he doesn’t attack again. Just returns to his seat and goes back to shining his sword. Suddenly Lil Cal is propped up against the sword rack, and you’re not sure where he came from. “Go away,” Bro instructs, and you are quite confused. “Do the dishes while you’re downstairs.”

“Okay.” You say, and hesitantly start back towards the door. Was this another test? You aren’t sure. But Bro doesn’t move as you head back down into the apartment. You sorta pause to gather your thoughts, and after a moment you feel… Well, a little happy. He thinks you’re quick on your feet. You dodged his attack. You usually can’t do that. You think maybe Bro is satisfied with your progress, even if you aren’t really good at building up muscle. 

You feel a bit like a little kid as you make your way into the kitchen, almost smiling. It’s like a high, really. A rush of euphoria in your brain. You carefully move the fireworks out of the sink and start on the dishes piling up on the counter. You can hear Bro’s footsteps moving around on the roof, but it’s sort of comforting. You know exactly where he is.

Once the dishes are done, you fumble around the kitchen cabinets. There isn’t much to eat, really, but you manage to find some chips and a bottle of Coke. You return to your bedroom, satisfied. You move your mouse around, wincing at the way your computer screen lights up.

  
EB: good luck!  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] is an idle chum! --  
EB: i kinda want to say something, but i’m not really sure how to say it.  
EB: are you okay?  
EB: like, REALLY okay?  
EB: like not just, hahaha yeah john i’m dave!! i’m always fine!!  
EB: but like, are you actually okay?  
EB: like you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?  
EB: we’re best bros, man.  
EB: you can always tell me things.  
EB: even if they’re really bad things!  
EB: like, i don’t know.  
EB: bad things you don’t tell people.  
EB: like those.  


You stare at the chat for a moment, not entirely sure how to respond to any of what John said. You were fine. You just had a bad day and probably said some not so cool things that had him worried. You decide to see what Karter said while you were gone, before responding.

  
CG: I’M NOT SURE WHY I FORGAVE YOU SO QUICKLY.  
CG: I MEAN, WHAT BULLSHIT IS THAT.  
CG: I AM GOING TO EQUATE YOU TO A PUPPY IN THE RAIN BECAUSE GODDAMN ANYTIME YOU GET UPSET I FEEL LIKE THE BIGGEST DICK IN THE WORLD EVEN IF YOU’RE AT FAULT.  
CG: LIKE!! WHAT THE FUCK!  
CG: I’M JUST GOING TO TALK MYSELF IN CIRCLES IN YOUR CHAT WHILE YOU’RE GONE.  
CG: YOU’RE GOING TO COME BACK AND BE LIKE, “WOW, HOW DID I SCORE SUCH AN ASSHOLE FRIEND WHO TALKS SO MUCH.”  
CG: AND I’M GOING TO BE LIKE “HAHA YEAH, THAT’S ME!”   
CG: CHRIST, AM I STILL GOING ON?  
CG: JUST YAPPING UP A STORM.  
CG: YOU’VE BEEN GONE LIKE TEN MINUTES AND I HAVE SENT YOU ONE MESSAGE FOR EVERY MINUTE THAT HAS PASSED.  
CG: I’M CHALLENGING MYSELF TO GO A WHOLE TEN MINUTES WITHOUT SAYING *ANYTHING*.  
CG: STARTING… NOW.  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] is an idle chum! --  
CG: COOL, I WENT TEN MINUTES WITHOUT SAYING ANYTHING.  
CG: …  
CG: NOBODY ELSE IS ONLINE, OKAY. I HAVE LIKE TWELVE WHOLE FRIENDS AND NOT A SINGLE ONE OF THEM IS ONLINE BESIDES YOU.  
CG: SUCH COMPLETE BULLSHIT, REALLY.  
CG: THEY SHOULD BE SITTING AROUND READY TO RESPOND TO MY EVERY WHINY TEXT.  
CG: EAT FASTER, DAMMIT.  
CG: I WANNA YELL AT YOU SOME MORE EVEN THOUGH I ALREADY ACCEPTED YOUR APOLOGY BECAUSE I’M THE LARGEST PILE OF HYPOCRITICAL FECES YOU’VE EVER SEEN.  
TG: ok back  
CG: THERE YOU ARE.  
TG: so youre yelling at me some more  
CG: NOT INTENTIONALLY. I’M JUST A DICK DOWN TO MY CORE SO I WILL PROBABLY CHEW YOU OUT FOR THE WHOLE THING MORE AT SOME POINT.  
TG: got it  
TG: will keep that in mind  
CG: ALRIGHT, LET’S CHANGE THE SUBJECT SO I CAN AVOID BEING A GIANT DOUCHENOZZLE FOR AS LONG AS POSSIBLE.  
CG: JUST GOTTA PROCRASTINATE THE INEVITABLE.  
TG: are you staying up late tonight  
CG: WHEN THE FUCK DO I EVER GO TO BED BEFORE THREE AM?  
TG: true  
TG: wanna stream some shitty movies together  
TG: i mean like really shitty movies  
TG: like these actors were found on craigslist looking for acting jobs  
TG: lil suzie just trying to launch her acting career and shes too classy to take some nudes or do pornos so her manager is just scrolling through craigslist  
TG: her manager is her uncle btw no actual manager would work with her  
CG: IS SUZIE HOT?  
TG: thats about the only thing shes got going for her  
CG: LET’S DO THIS, THEN.  
TG: cool  


  
TG: bad things huh  
EB: yeah! like, really bad things man. you can tell me all the things. all of them.  
TG: ok  
TG: i smoked one whole marijuana once  
TG; i also drank a lot of cocaine  
TG: huffing all that beer  
EB: UGH.  
EB: nevermind.  
EB: you’re such a loser, dave.  
TG: you fucking wish  
TG: id like to see you chug some heroine sometime  
EB: i hate you.  
TG: ily2 johnny bby <3 <3 <3 <3  
EB: that’s gay, dave.  
TG: i also butt chugged some cough syrup once  
EB: do i even want to know what butt chugging is.  
EB: don’t answer that question.  
EB: the answer is no.  
TG: its like  
EB: no  
TG: ok so imagine youre at a party  
EB: dave.  
TG: and youre like hey i wanna get high off this cough syrup  
EB: i will leave.  
TG: so you ask your friend to pour it into your ass  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] has blocked turntechGodhead [TG] \--  


*****

The next two weeks are relatively uneventful. You go to school, see Karter, come home, strife with Bro. You go to your clubs, and even hesitantly return to the GSA with Karter. It's weird, and if anyone asked you'd tell them you don't attend. Don't need anymore gay rumors.

Over the weekend you once again attend church with Karter, which is fun. The two of you snuck into Sunday school, and just hung out with the little kids and helped them color pictures of Jesus. You didn't think you'd like the kids that much, but they're cool. They like your puffy hair and one asked if you were a cool kid because you wore sunglasses. You informed them that you were obviously the coolest kid. You also taught the kids to fist-bump. It was a good time.

The following Thursday, you're sitting with Karter after GSA in the parking lot. Kevin texts him that he's going to be late, to which Karter groans and lies back in the grass.

"I'm starving," he starts, kicking his feet a bit like a child throwing a tantrum. You arch a brow at him, before shrugging.

"Fuck it. Let's walk down to McDonald's. I'll treat."

"How very gay of you Dave," Karter jokes and you make a face. He glances over, rolling his eyes. "Of course the straight guy is bothered by MY gay joke."

"Look," you start, trying to form your words as you push up off of the ground and onto your feet. "I just got a lot of shit at my old school due to the fact that a bunch of kids thought I was gay. You had some guys that if I even stood too close to them they'd make a scene. I've just... Managed to only get punched once this year. I'd like to keep it that way."

Karter sneers a bit, but you don't think it's directed at you. "Is that why you switched schools?"

"Yeah," you finally admit. It wasn't actually the reason, but it was better to say that than that Bro brought a sword to school.

Karter nods, sitting up and putting out a hand. You grab it, helping him to his feet. "People suck," he finally says and you agree. "Let's go get some fucking McDonald's."

You grin at that, and the two of you walk the five minutes it takes to have that golden arch in sight. Karter holds the door for you, and you curtsey. "What a motherfuckin' gentleman." He punches your arm as you head inside, and you snort. "You always punch me in my fucking left arm nan. By the end of this year it's gonna be so nerve-dead I won't be able to write."

"I'll get you out of schoolwork forever." Karter offers, and you scoff a bit.

"Dude, I'm trying to get into art." You point out, getting in line.

"You draw your shitty webcomic with your right hand! To make it _extra_ shitty." He points out, eyes scanning the menu. He finally glances back at you. "What it I bought ten Mcflurries."

You arch a brow. "Oreo or M&M?"

"Oreo, obviously."

"Nah," you say, shaking your head. "M&Ms is where it's at, bro. No ten Mcflurries for you."

"I'm breaking up with you, Dave." He jokes, and the girl behind the counter looks a little confused when you finally are next.

"Hi Dave," she says, and it takes you a moment to place her.

"Oh, Anna right?" She was in art club. A sophomore, you think. She nods and doesn't speak anymore because Karter is ordering. You let him, and can't help but quirk your lips when he tries to order a McFlurry with extra Oreo to spite you.

Once the two of you have your food and are seated, you shove a couple fries in your mouth. After a moment of chewing, you glance up at Karter. "Did Kevin say why he was late?"

"He's probably having some drama with Rima again," he sounds annoyed. "Not sure when he's gonna realize that Rima doesn't put up with that little boy 'be mean to the girl you like!' crap." He dips a chicken nugget into the tiny container of ranch, popping it into his mouth and chewing it. You're not sure why you're watching him so closely. You blame it on art classes. Gotta memorize the way people move for like drawings and shit. That's totally it.

It's silent for a few minutes besides crackling wrappers and slurping of straws. You at some point spoonful a couple M&Ms into Karter's McFlurry and he kicks your shin under the table. "That's how two guys dating play footsie," he nods. "It's super macho. Just kicking the shit out of each other under the table."

You choke a bit on your ice cream, shaking your head at how ridiculous he was. "Man, didn't you just break up with me at the counter?"

"Fuck off," he actually throws a his empty chicken nugget box at you. It hits the floor and a nearby employee looks annoyed.

You bend down to get it and set it back on the table, keeping eye contact with Karter the whole time. Except he can't actually see your eyes.

You go back to eating your ice cream calmly, and after a moment Karter speaks up again. "Do you wanna like, spend the weekend at my house or something?"

"What? Like... A sleepover?" You blink. You've never been to a sleepover before. "Uh, sure?"

"Don't sound so fucking convinced," he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes and scooping the last remnants of ice cream from the bottom of the plastic container. "Look, we'll watch movies and play video games and my mom will make up pancakes. It'll be all fucking fun and dandy. Mom can take you home Sunday after dinner."

"Alright," you decide it sounds fun enough. "Do guys even have sleepovers?" You never see them have them in movies.

"Why the fuck not?" Karter shrugs. "Why let girls have all the fun of painting each other's nails and talking shit about their other friends?"

"So we can totally talk about how Erin's hair is way too high." Seriously, the guy has the tallest quiff you’ve ever seen.

"Oh we can shit talk the fuck outta Erin." He nods, getting up to dump his trash and you follow his example. You two end up just sitting against the wall outside, watching people wander by on the sidewalk. 

“Should I bring my onesie?” You finally inquire, and Karter gives you a look.

“You do not own a fucking onesie. Don’t try to get my hopes up Strider unless you are entirely serious.” He warns, half growling. He was apparently very serious about his onesies.

“It’s a cat. It has a fluffy tail.” It was true. You had a onesie at home, and dammit, you were going to bring it with you. You could smack Karter with the tail. It’ll be a good time.

Karter purses his lips, shaking his head in disbelief. “Dave.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna vore you so hard this weekend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire fic was actually about vore the whole time guys I lied I tricked you all into reading this and next chapter karter is going to vore neko dave its gonna be great


End file.
